


Zeus' Dice

by ElphieBLW



Series: Zeus' Dice [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom
Genre: Alfred Knows All, Bat Family, Damian being a brat, Danny's been through the ringer, Food Issues, Gen, I'm terrible to characters I like, Lots of Angst, Off-screen Character Death, Original Female Character - Freeform, Purely For Plot Reasons, Secrets, Secrets everywhere, Trust Issues, Unrealistic Portrayal of Social Services
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElphieBLW/pseuds/ElphieBLW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Two years, almost to the day, after the Great Amity Park Tragedy finds Danny Fenton, orphaned and alone, being handed over to his newest foster parent. But, unlike the others, this foster has a secret that could bring Danny back into the hero business. Because, unlike the others, this foster is a hero himself: He is Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The Batman portion of this sort of blends together all my knowledge of Batman, so basically, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Damian Wayne all exist and have been Robin/Batgirl/Spoiler/etc. I state this now, because it’s highly likely they will show up or be mentioned. Damian is currently at Wayne Manor, so he’ll be in this as much as Bruce and Alfred.
> 
> I will say right now, Danny’s true/full backstory won’t come out for a long time in this. Feel free to guess all you’d like. Any and all speculations made on how Danny’s ghost mode would develop is my own personal opinion, and slowly developing into a personal canon of how ghosts in general work. Frankly, I’m having a lot of fun with that, and my co-author on this is a good sounding board/skeptic for me to bounce ideas off of. A good portion of these ideas will turn up in other stories of mine.
> 
> Also, I took about a billion liberties with how the foster system works in this. I know it’s highly unlikely and pretty much never happens, but it’s all for the sake of the plot, sorry.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

_**The Dice of Zeus Always Fall Luckily.** _

Amity Park, Colorado, was generally and widely known as “A Nice Place to Live!”  And in a world constantly attacked by monsters, aliens, and supervillains, that was a rather impressive claim.  Of course, Amity Parkers still had to deal with the daily ghost attacks, but other than one or two actual invasions, said ghosts were normally taken care of by the resident specter, Phantom, before they were that noticeable.  In fact, in the hundred-odd years since it was founded, Amity Park boasted the lowest disaster and crime rate in the nation for the vast majority of them.

Or, they did, until the Tragedy of 2012.  Within just a week, the population was halved.  Citizens fled, not even bothering to pack before running for the next town’s borders.  The school was closed down, pending an investigation.  The few who remained in the town found themselves haunted by the memories of the hundreds of deaths.

There were widows.  There were grieving parents.  There were orphans.

And among them was Danny Fenton.  In all the chaos and destruction of the Tragedy, he found his whole life flipped upside-down.  Gone were his parents, gone was his sister, gone were his friends.  His teachers, his classmates, his neighbors, all gone.

In one week, Amity Park went from haunted to ghost town.

And Danny blamed himself.  If he were only faster, if he were only there, if he only knew.

Of course, everyone he spoke to tried to convince him otherwise.  The police, when they rescued him from the fire, the social services agent, Amika Ouwa, as she tried to place him in a foster home, even the ghosts, who made a deal with him to protect Amity in his stead so this didn’t happen again.

He was still shocked at that.  The Tragedy was actually  _so bad_  the ghosts  _came to him, offering_  to take over his role as town protector, and all they asked in return was protection from the Guys in White.

But even though his town was safe didn’t mean  _he_  was.

His first problem came in the form of Amika Ouwa.  The small, Asian woman certainly didn’t  _seem_  like trouble, but she was far too probing for Danny’s liking.  There were all kinds of questions he couldn’t answer if he wanted to keep his identity secret, so instead, he dodged everything she asked, generally coming off as rude when she tried to talk with him.

The second problem was somewhat tied to the first.  It more had to do with  _why_  Danny was going into foster care, though, seeing as there was an adoption offer immediately upon discovering Danny’s survival.  The issue wasn’t so much that Danny didn’t  _want_  to be adopted as it was he didn’t want to be adopted by  _him_.

Because the offer had come from none other than Vlad Masters.  As soon as he heard that name in connection with adoption, Danny told Amika, in no uncertain terms, that it  _would **never**  happen_.

Thus, the third problem.  In the past two years, Danny had been in and out of no fewer than fifty foster homes, each one worse than the last.  Every time he found out about his new family’s secret stash or side job or hobby, Danny would call up Amika, who would then pull him out as quick as possible before alerting whatever authorities necessary.  There were about twenty people behind bars all because of Danny.

And because of that, there was now a fourth problem:  Amika was running low on possible foster families for Danny.  Of course, Danny himself just shrugged it off, perfectly content to live on his own or stay with Amika as he did when between fosters, but Amika was determined to find him a new home.  As such, they’d come down to Amika’s last option.

Gotham’s own Bruce Wayne.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

Alfred Pennyworth sat in a pitch black limousine right outside the Gotham City Airport.  Of course, the lane he was in was not necessarily to be used for parking, as eccentric billionaire Bruce Wayne’s personal butler, he  _did_  get a few perks.

But not even being Wayne’s butler could make the airplanes actually arrive on time.

Alfred sighed, checking his watch once more.  “I suppose the airlines are as  _punctual_  as ever….”  He flicked through a newspaper, glancing over all the articles on the lowering crime rate, along with those on the various villain attacks and subsequent vanquishings via caped crusader.  “Well, some things never change….”

A distinct beeping broke the relative silence of the car, and Alfred picked up his cell phone, flipping it open.  “Hello?”

 _“Hi,”_  a female voice murmured over the line, sounding slightly unnerved,  _“um, is this, um, Mr. Pennyworth?”_

Alfred smiled, realizing this was the call he’d been waiting for.  “Indeed it is.  And, I presume, this is Ms. Ouwa?”

 _“Ah, yes, sir!”_   The woman was obviously frazzled, and Alfred was starting to hear a commotion over the phone.   _“We just for off the plane, and—”_   A crash echoed over the line, followed by some grumbling and a staticy noise that was the woman muffling the speaker.   _“Pick it up, don’t just leave it there!”_   The muffle was lifted, and her voice was stronger now.   _“—and we’re grabbing our luggage now.  We should be outside in a minute or two.”_

He chuckled.  “No worries, miss.  I’m parked right out front.  See you in a jiffy!”

 _“Thanks, we’ll—”_   This time, she didn’t bother to muffle the phone.   _“I DON’T CARE IF HE KICKED YOUR CHAIR ON THE FLIGHT, GIVE HIM BACK HIS TEDDY BEAR OR I’LL—!”_

The phone clicked off, and Alfred blinked down at it.  “Seems like an… interesting flight.”

He only had to wait a few moments for a harried-looking, tiny Asian woman to come out of the airport, tugging along a huge rolling suitcase and a darkly-dressed teen behind her.  The woman smiled at him, but the teen simply scowled, black hair hiding one of his two blue eyes from view.  “Hello, you must be Mr. Pennyworth?”

Alfred opened the door for them, noticing as he did that the woman in the skirt suit had released the boy, who folded his arms over his chest, blocking the bright blue image on his black shirt (魂).  Shaking his head, Alfred refocused on the situation at hand, turning to Ouwa.  “That would be me, miss.”  He popped open the trunk, holding out a hand.  “Let me take care of the heavy lifting, if you please.”

She blinked, then handed over her bag with a nod.  “Ah,  _arigatou_.  Um, is Mr. Wayne here, or are we meeting him somewhere else?”

“Oh, no, miss,” Alfred replied as he loaded and closed the trunk, “he is… preoccupied at the moment.  And…” he paused, trying to remember the correct term, “ _dou itashimashite_.”

Ouwa grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry, I still tend to slip every so often.  So, where shall we be meeting—?”  She cut herself off, having noticed the boy trying to sneak away and grabbing him by the ear with a hissed, “I was  _not_  joking about getting a collar and leash for you.”  Then, she turned back to Alfred, grinning.  “—Mr. Wayne?”

Alfred smiled back, gesturing for them to head into the car.  “I’m to take you to the Manor.  Master Wayne should be meeting us there shortly.”

Ouwa gave a slight bow.  “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”  Then she turned a slight glare on the boy.  “Go on in, Danny.”

He grumbled, but did so, obviously not wanting to risk receiving the collar and leash he’d been threatened with.  Amika Ouwa followed him in, and Alfred shut the door behind them before getting in and pulling away from the airport.  “I trust your travels haven’t been  _too_  exciting?”

Danny refused to answer in anything other than grumbles.  Amika, however, slapped the back of his head before grinning at Alfred.  “No, not at all.  We’re more just hoping we’ll be here a bit longer than we’ve been in most recently.”

The teen scoffed, turning to stare out the window.

Alfred nodded.  “I see.  Well, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you come across young Master Fenton?”

Amika glanced over at the boy before replying.  “I was hired onto the Amity Park Social Services staff about two and a half years ago.  I was in town for… uh, the Tragedy.  Most others had left, so I took Danny’s case.”

Alfred glanced back at them through the rearview mirror.  “I see.  And how was the flight, Master Fenton?”

Danny glared back at him, also through the mirror.  “Shitty.”

Amika slapped the back of his head again with a reprimand of, “Language, Daniel.”

“English, Ouwa,” he shot back.

Alfred just smiled, trying to calm the two.  “Not to worry.  I understand Master Fenton’s had some… interesting experiences thus far.  I can only hope that his stay here in Gotham is a bit more peaceful.”

The teen snorted at that.  “Gotham,  _peaceful?_   Yeah, right.”

Ouwa seemed to be fighting not to scowl at him.  “Be polite, Danny.  We are here as guests, so be respectful.”

“I appreciate your politeness, Ms. Ouwa,” Alfred replied with his ever-present smile, “but Master Fenton’s perspective  _is_  understandable.  It isn’t exactly a  _utopia_  but, then, what  _is_  these days?”

Apparently, this was as much conversation as Danny could take.  He turned away, glaring out the window again and steadfastly ignoring the other two.

Ouwa glanced at him sadly before focusing on Alfred again.  “Yes, I’m afraid we know that all too well.”

“I understand,” Alfred said simply.  “I must admit, I  _am_  curious, though.  What actually made Gotham the choice for this young man at this particular time?”

The social worker didn’t seem to be expecting that question.  She blinked for a moment at the butler, then responded.  “Ah, I have a friend here.  She’s the one who suggested that Mr. Wayne might be willing to foster Danny for a while until a permanent home may be found.”

Alfred smiled once more as he pulled into the manor’s driveway.  “I see.  Here we are!”

Ouwa gaped at the mansion, but Danny didn’t seem to react at all.  “Well,” Ouwa mumbled, obviously still in shock, “she, ah, she mentioned Mr. Wayne was well off, but I believe she downplayed….”

The butler chuckled at her reaction.  “Yes, I know it is a bit… breath-taking at first.”  Then, he smirked.  “I am also familiar with Ms. Meridian and how she chooses her words.”

She blushed but grinned.  “Ah, intelligent as well.”  Then she opened the door to the car, pushing Danny out before her.  “Come on, we must go say hello to Mr. Wayne.”

By the time they’d exited the car, Alfred was in front of them again.  “No need to rush, madam,” he replied.  “Master Wayne is never one for haste.  Especially regarding a first encounter.”

Ouwa smiled thinly, tersely answering, “Yes, well, while I’m sure that’s true, I’d much rather head in and get this over with.”  She rolled her eyes.  “If only because Danny’s patience was already wearing thin  _before_ we got  _on_  the plane….”

Danny glared back at her.  “Oh, yeah, like  _you_  weren’t the one who nearly tore a guy’s head off for reclining his seat far enough back that you couldn’t move….”

And the blush was back full force.  “Th—That’s  _completely_  unrelated!”

As Danny rolled his eyes, Alfred blinked at the two.  “Yes… well… I suppose we  _should_  get inside, then.”  He bowed politely, gesturing towards the door.  “After you two.”

Ouwa nodded.  “Thank you.”  And she led the way in, Danny trudging after her, hands stuffed in his pockets and scowling.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny was  _not_  in awe of Wayne Manor, he was  _not_  looking forward to meeting the billionaire, and he most  _certainly_  was  _not_  happy to be moving in.  In fact, he wanted nothing more than for Amika to quit and to be shipped off back to Amity Park.  It physically  _hurt_  to be so far from the town he was born (and half-died) in, and he desperately wished to be back there, even going so far as to debate stating said wish in front of Desiree.

Almost as soon as he had that thought, he shook it out of his head.  Nothing was worth risking  _her_  messing with his wish.  He’d probably end up in a burnt-out building if he did that.

Danny rolled his eyes at some stupid comment Amika made, still following her through the large entranceway.

“Now, I’ve already fixed up the guest room upstairs,” the butler, what’shisname, was saying, “whenever Master Fenton is ready.”

Amika was grinning.  “Wonderful!”  She turned back to Danny, happily saying, “Isn’t this  _great_ , Danny?  You’re going to  _love_  it here!”

Okay, he couldn’t help himself.  An eyebrow quirked up at that.  “Isn’t that what you said about the place in Seattle?”

She immediately knew what he meant, blushing brightly.  “Th—That was  _not_  my fault, and you  _know_  it!”

He rolled his eyes once more.  “The fosters  _sold cocaine out of their garage_.”

“…And we haven’t had that problem since then,” Amika said, as though that made everything magically better.

The butler was saying something again.  “…I see you’ve had some… interesting living spaces over the years, Master Fenton.  Nevertheless, I  _do_  hope your stay at Wayne Manor will be a bit more… normal.”

Danny couldn’t help but roll his eyes yet again.  “Yeah, ‘cause it’s  _so normal_ here in ‘Wayne Manor.’”

And now Amika had her hands on her hips, a toe tapping.  “Daniel Fenton, be polite!”

He glared back at her.  “I’ll be rude all I want, I think I deserve it after all the  _crap_  I’ve been through over the past two years!”  And he stormed away, pleased to finally be away from the prying eyes.  As he walked away, he tugged out one of the few things he’d kept with him, a switchblade with a curved blade.  He smiled down at it, flicking it open and starting to flip it.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

A blushing Amika turned back to Alfred.  “I—I’m sorry about that,” she stuttered.  “H—He’s—Well, as he said, he’s… been through a lot….”

Alfred just nodded.  “No worries.  I think I understand somewhat where he’s coming from.”

Amika’s brow furrowed at that.  “Oh?  How so?”

For a moment, the butler hesitated.  Then, “Well… let’s just say this house has had its share of… hard times.”

The social worker realized then that the man was referring to the tragedy in Bruce Wayne’s own past.  As a young boy, the future billionaire had watched his parents be shot dead before him.  It didn’t take much to draw the connection between the two.

“I… see.”  She glanced in the direction her ward had gone.  “Any idea when Mr. Wayne will arrive?  I’m a bit worried, what with the state he’s in, that Danny will, um, be a bit  _rough_  on the house….”

Alfred blinked at her, then chuckled.  “Not to worry, madam.  I don’t think there’s too much the young man can get into around here.”

Amika’s eyelids dropped to half-mast.  “Forgive me if I’m a bit more cynical about Danny’s ability to find trouble.”

A smile met her words.  “Of course.  We each have our own perspectives.  However, this is  _certainly_  not my first time dealing with a curious youth.”

She nodded, knowing he had practically raised the billionaire-to-be from birth.  “I suppose so.  So, what shall we do until Mr. Wayne arrives?”

The answer came from the balcony overlooking them.  “Whatever you like, Ms. Ouwa.”

Amika jumped before glancing up to see Bruce Wayne walking leisurely down a grand staircase.  “Oh, my!  Oh, hello, you must be Mr. Wayne!”  She felt stupid for the statement, but politeness demanded she make sure he actually was Wayne before addressing him as such.

Bruce seemed to realize this and gave her a half-grin.  “That I am.”  He came up next to her, pressing a very brief kiss to the back of her hand.  “Please forgive me for startling you.  I never truly realize how… unsettling my entrances can be at times.”

She was blushing again, she knew it, but once he released her hand, she was able to regain her composure.  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all!  I just, um, well, I suppose I should apologize as well, seeing as Danny’s run off to who-knows-where.”

Bruce’s brows went up as he glanced at Alfred.  “Oh?  And which way did he run off  _to?_ ”

“To the kitchen, sir,” was the prompt reply.

“I see.  Well, I doubt there’s much mischief he can cause in  _there_ , but to be safe….”  He gestured towards the kitchen, Alfred heading through first.

Amika blinked, then followed the two into the kitchen, where Danny sat in a corner, tossing his switchblade from hand to hand.  She frowned, her hands once more finding their way to her hips.  “Daniel James Fenton, I thought I told you to throw that thing out!”

He didn’t even acknowledge the use of his full name.  “Yeah, you did.”

“Then  _why_  do you still  _have it?_ ”

He shrugged, not even pausing as he juggled the blade.  “‘Cause I didn’t toss it out.”

Bruce chuckled.  “It’s fine.  Is that a Hawk or a Scarab?”

For a moment, Danny just stared down Bruce, then turned back to his knife, continuing to toss it.  “…’S a Hawk.”

The billionaire nodded.  “Nice choice.”

Danny didn’t acknowledge that, either, instead beginning to throw the knife in the air, plucking it back when it got close, blade still out and causing the knife to spin wildly.

Amika’s eyes went wide.  She could just  _see_  him miss, the blade sinking down into his skin—  “Danny!  Put that away before you hurt someone!”  Namely, himself.

He rolled his eyes, continuing to play with the blade.

Bruce didn’t seem concerned at all.  In fact, he was watching closely as the knife went up, spun, then fell back down, only to be caught and sent back up again.  “Actually,” he said after having studied the boy for a moment, “I think he’s quite skilled at knife-throwing.”

Alfred was on the same page as Amika, obviously unnerved by the feat.  “If you say so, sir.”  Then he turned to the social worker.  “Will you be staying for dinner, madam?”

Amika blinked, then realized what she’d been asked.  “Oh, um, no, I really should be getting to the hotel.”  She bowed slightly to the two who were taking in her charge.  “Thank you for taking Danny in, and please keep me informed should anything happen.  Danny has my number as well, should he feel the need to reach me.”

Bruce smiled over at her.  “There’s not much need to stand on ceremony, Amika, was it?”

“Oh, um, yes,” she stuttered, blushing a bit at the mention of her bowing, “and it’s really more just habit, sorry.”

“I understand completely, and did not mean any offense.”  The billionaire was still grinning, and no wonder he was a playboy with a smile like that.  “You’ll come to find, the more you’re around us, that I try to be more casual than most people seem to think given my… surroundings.”

Now Amika smiled back.  “Well, that’s good to know.  Thank you for telling me.  But I really  _should_  be going now.”  She turned to Danny, adding, “Feel free to call if you need anything.”

He just grunted, not pausing in his knife throwing.

She sighed, turning once more to Bruce.  “The same goes for you, too, Mr. Wayne.  I will check in again tomorrow.  Good-bye.”

Bruce bowed, smiling at her still.  “ _Sayonara_ , Amika-san.”

She hurried out the door, trying to hide her blush.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

Once she was gone, Danny stowed his knife, stretching out like a cat before standing.  He stared at the two men for a moment, then mumbled, “…You mentioned a room?”

Alfred nodded, motioning towards the stairs.  “Of course, sir.  If you’ll follow me…?”

Danny shoved his hands into his pockets again, but followed the butler.

“I  _do_  hope you’ll enjoy your stay here, Master Fenton.  I understand you’ve had some… interesting experiences in the past, but I think this will be a nice… respite for you.”

Danny snorted at that.  “Yeah, enjoy your stay in the world’s most dangerous city.  Awesome.”

Alfred tried not to show that he was hesitating.  “…I admit, the area may not be heaven, but… if I may say, it has its compensations.”

One of Danny’s eyebrows quirked up at that.  “Like what, a nice selection of fast food joints to get mugged at?”

A door in front of them was thrown open, a rather annoyed young ten-year-old staring out from the doorway, his arms crossed.  He had black hair and blue eyes just like Wayne, so Danny immediately made the connection that there was a son Amika hadn’t known about.  “Alfred, what is the meaning of this racket?”

The butler sighed.  “My apologies, Master Wayne.  We have a new resident to the Manor, and—”

“And he can speak for himself,” Danny interrupted, arms crossed over his chest.

The kid scowled at him.  “Father did not mention a new resident to me.”

Alfred glanced between the two, obviously trying to avoid conflict.  “I… suppose he thought you could find out in your own time.  You’ll have to discuss it with him, if you want details.”

The scowl just deepened.  “I suppose I will.”  Then the kid turned and studied Danny, who rolled his eyes.  “So, who is this new resident?”

Another nervous glance from Alfred raked over the two.  “Do you wish to introduce yourself, sir?”

Danny shrugged.  “Nah.  I don’t like little brats like him.”  He turned, ignoring whatever reaction the kid had, instead thumbing down the hallway.  “My room’s this way, right?”

The kid was scowling at his back.  He could feel the glare trying to burn a hole through his back.  “I am  _not_  a brat!”

Alfred nodded, rushing ahead to lead the teen.  “Right this way, Master Fenton.”

Danny followed, waving over his shoulder without glancing back.  “Night, kiddo.”

And angry grumbling chased them down the hall.

**7 3|_|5' |)!(3  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There shall be puppies!

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don’t find out ‘til too late that he’s been playing with two queens all along._ **

The next morning found Bruce heading down into the kitchen to see Alfred mixing up some oatmeal.  Alfred smiled at the billionaire.  “Good morning, Master Wayne.”

Bruce grinned back.  “Morning Alfred.”  He was handed a coffee cup and sat to wait for the meal to be ready, pulling open a newspaper.  “So, what can you tell me about our new addition, since I didn’t have time to ask last night?”

Alfred hesitated, but only for a moment.  “…Not much, to be honest, sir.  It appears he was brought here due to a friendship between Miss Ouwa and Miss Meridian.”

One of Bruce’s eyebrows jumped up at that.  “Oh?  Well, I suppose we’ll see how it turns out.”

“Quite….”

Now both Bruce’s eyebrows met his hairline.  “Something wrong?” he asked, looking up at his long-time friend.

“…Actually, sir,” Alfred began, seeming to be trying not to bite his lip, “what I  _have_  gleaned about Master Fenton seems to have… struck a nerve.”

Bruce frowned in concentration, trying to figure out what exactly was meant.  “…Go on.”

Alfred reddened slightly.  “It’s nothing  _terrible_ , just that… well… a certain event in  _his_  past seems to have some correlation to—”

Bruce went back to his paper, mumbling, “I see.”

Alfred lowered his head.  “My apologies, sir.”

Without looking up from his paper, Bruce stated, “No matter, Alfred.  I asked.”

As he poured the oatmeal out into four bowls, Alfred nodded.  “Very well, sir.  I should mention, though… it seems as though some of his previous residences were… less than legal in their activities….”

Bruce smirked behind his paper, having been waiting for this to come up.  “Are you referring to the coke plant found in his placement in Washington?”

Alfred really shouldn’t still be surprised by the things Bruce just  _knew_.  “Exactly, sir.”

The billionaire nodded.  “Well, I wouldn’t hold that against him.  I think he’s quite resilient.”

A smile spread across Alfred’s face once more as he added apple slices and cinnamon into the bowls.  “Precisely, sir.  He should fit  _right_  in here.”

As the time ticked on, Bruce continued to read and sip at his coffee while Alfred added the finishing touches to breakfast.  Finally, Bruce spoke back up.  “Daniel will probably be sleeping in a bit today.”

Alfred smiled back.  “Of course, sir.  I’ll make a setting and leave it by his door, then.”  He put word to deed, then placed a bowl before Bruce.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said with a grin before starting in on his oatmeal.

Alfred picked up the tray as he replied, “My pleasure as always, sir.”  Then he headed towards the stairs, dodging past Damian on the way.

The boy walked into the kitchen, a brow still raised from Alfred’s unusually absent behavior.

Bruce smiled at the boy’s confusion.  “Sleep well, Damian?”

Damian frowned.  “I did, but I believe the petulant child you have allowed in did not.”

Now, Bruce paused as he thought that through.  “Is that so?”

The boy nodded.  “I heard noises from the room he is borrowing.”

Bruce folded his paper, laying it on the table and steepling his fingers.  “Well, it  _is_  a new place to him.  I doubt it’s anything to be concerned with.”

But Damian’s frown just deepened.  “He yelled several times.”

The billionaire thought that over for a moment.  “I see….”  Then he shook his head, grinning slightly at Damian.  “Well, he’s probably experiencing some nightmares.  Not all that uncommon, you understand.”

Finally the boy’s expression changed, even if it was just going from a frown to a scowl.  “Why is he here?” he demanded.

Bruce smirked at his son’s slightly whiney tone, remembering that he hadn’t exactly gotten used to normal life yet.  The League of Shadows may have created a brilliant assassin, but the boy definitely needed to work on his social skills.  “I thought you would’ve surmised that by now,” he replied, only slightly teasing.  “He needs a place to stay.”

Damian’s scowl was getting steadily worse.  “But  _why_ , Father?  Can he not simply stay with someone related to him?  Or is he like Grayson and has no living relatives?”

Though sometimes, the boy just rubbed him the wrong way.  He turned a stern glare to his son, pushing back the thoughts of his own parents’ death.  “Because someone  _else_  was in a similar situation not too long ago.”

Knowing he’d overstepped his bounds, Damian pursed his lips, deciding to switch topics.  “Is it not dangerous for him to stay here, given your ‘night job’?  How do you plan to keep him from finding out?”

Glad for the change in subject, Bruce softened some.  “Damian, in my experience, a secret such as ours doesn’t stay completely hidden from  _anyone_  too long.”  He sighed, continuing, “I learned early on that the  _real_ trick was controlling how it comes to light.”

One of Damian’s brows raised at that.  “So you have contingencies for how to reveal this to him should the need arise?”  Then he frowned once more.  “Does Grayson know you plan on telling a stranger of your job?”

“Not at present.”  Bruce paused, thinking back over the day before and realizing he hadn’t told any of his other wards the news.  “Actually, I’m not sure if he even knows of Danny’s existence.  Ms. Meridian may have dropped some hints, but it hasn’t come up between the two of us.”  He shook his head, attempting to get back on track.  “As for Daniel, nothing’s ever  _guaranteed_.  However, I believe the situation is under control, at least for the present.”

“Then what do you plan to do with him while he’s here?” Damian was steadfastly scowling again, and Bruce could imagine the problems that would occur from the two butting heads.

But instead of bringing that up, he grinned.  “I believe I can keep him busy.  As I stated, the trick isn’t to try and change people, but rather to… redirect their energies.  If someone is inquisitive, find things which you  _want_  them to discover.”  Then, remembering the skill Danny displayed with his Hawk the night before, Bruce added, “I wonder how he is at using his hands….”

Damian frowned, brow furrowing at that.  “Why would you wonder about that?  Would you not want him to  _avoid_  causing any trouble?”

Bruce chuckled.  “Damian, please.  As long as you have some more profitable activities, you can keep someone from the more… sensitive areas indefinitely.  Surely you understand the possibilities of finding handiwork in a place such as  _ours_.”

“Then what do you propose to offer  _the guest_  to do?”  He sneered on those two words, obviously still upset that the teen was living with them.

The billionaire thought for a moment before coming to a decision.  “I think our transportation area could use a good tune-up….”

Damian crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.  “…You want him to fix your cars?”

Bruce rolled his eyes.  “Not unsupervised, of course, but yes.  At least, see if he’s interested.”  Then he smirked.  “There are more… interesting ways to get to know someone than simple chit-chat.”

The boy’s nose wrinkled at that.  “You actually  _wish_  to get to know him?!  He is nothing more than an arrogant child!”

Bruce’s eyebrow jumped up.  “Pot-kettle, yes?”

Damian’s nose turned up into the air.  “I am neither arrogant nor a child.”  Then he lowered his chin, grumbling, “…And he called me a brat….”

And Bruce couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “Damian, you continually forget.  You’re  _barely_  ten years old.  Physically, you’re a child, even compared to  _him_.  He  _may_  be arrogant, but I don’t accept judgments based on ignorance from  _anyone_.  And if arrogance isn’t it, what would you prefer?  Naivety?”

Damian simply ignored that.  “So when will you offer him the job of fixing your vehicles?”

Bruce grinned, knowing that the boy had no reply and enjoying that he could still trip him up.  “Soon as he’s ready.  Speaking of which….”

Alfred reentered the room.

“How is our young friend?” Bruce asked the Englishman.

“Still asleep, I presume,” came the reply.  “I didn’t hear a peep from the room.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms.  “An improvement over last night.”

One of Alfred’s eyebrows quirked up.  “Oh?”

Bruce sighed.  “Damian’s informed me of Daniel’s… sleeping troubles.”

For a moment, Alfred seemed confused, but a sad look quickly masked that as he caught on.  “…Oh, my….”

“So, he is sleeping in?” Damian reiterated, scowling.  “Tt.  Is he truly  _that_ lazy?  It is already half nine!”

Now Bruce’s brows rose.  “He seems able to get more done in an hour than you could do in a day.”

Alfred had to stifle his chuckle, but luckily, being the butler for the Dark Knight had prepared him for such a feat.

Damian’s scowl just deepened.  “What do you mean?”

“I can tell… enough from someone by observing certain tells they give off,” Bruce explained, “whether or not they’re even aware of it.  The way he acted yesterday, particularly while he was handling that Hawk….”

Alfred nodded.  “I noticed as much as well, sir.”

Damian’s brow rose.  “I did not see him bring in an animal.”

The butler cleared his throat, masking another laugh.

Bruce just smiled at his son.  “It’s a knife, Damian.”  He frowned good-naturedly at him.  “I thought you were up to speed on your weapons identification.”

Of course, Damian took the teasing as poorly as ever, fighting down an embarrassed blush.  “I am!  I did not realize you were speaking of—”  But then, he realized what that meant.  “ _You allowed a stranger to bring in a weapon?!_ ”

The billionaire chuckled at that.  “Deflection doesn’t work so well on me, son.  Maybe on your teachers, but  _not_  here.  And yes.  If you think me defenseless without my suit, think again.”

“I realize you are not defenseless,” Damian spluttered angrily, “I merely did not think you’d be as reckless as Grayson!”

A sigh escaped Bruce at that.  Damian never seemed to learn about what recklessness truly was.  “Recklessness usually comes from inexperience on one or both sides of an issue.  From all appearances, neither one was so in this one.”

Damian scowled once more, then turned to storm away.  “I will take my breakfast in my room.”

“Very well, sir—”

Bruce cut Alfred off, deciding to try a little tough love to get the point across.  “It’ll be here when you’re ready, Damian.  You’re  _more_  than able to take it upstairs yourself.”

Once more, Damian’s scowl deepened, but he snagged his food and left the room.

Alfred and Bruce stared after him for a while before the former spoke.  “…Sometimes I worry about that child….”

Bruce sighed.  “I know.”

The butler turned back to face the billionaire.  “Shall I check on Master Fenton?”

“Don’t worry yourself, Alfred.  I’m sure he’ll come around when he’s ready.”

Alfred smiled.  “Very good, sir.”

Bruce stood, making his own way out of the room.  “If you see him, direct him to the garage.”

“Of course, Master Wayne.”

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny peeked out of his room, glancing both ways down the hallway.  He’d seen the small platter outside his door, but one look at the slices of fruit in what was probably supposed to be his breakfast had made him nauseous.  Instead, he ducked out of the room upon finding the halls empty and headed for the stairs, keeping his hands in his pockets as he went.  Once reaching the landing, he checked again for an audience before sneaking into the kitchen and grabbing a skillet and some eggs, placing them on or next to the stove and flicking the appliance on.

He didn’t even hear Alfred enter.  “Ah, Master Fenton.  Good morning.”

Danny had tensed upon hearing the voice, his grip on the skillet tightening in preparation to swing it, but he managed to force himself to relax.  Instead, he grumbled, “Morning.”

Alfred hadn’t noticed the bludgeoning he’d avoided, rather focusing on the ingredients set out.  “Was something wrong with the food I had prepared?”

Once again, that nausea threatened to overwhelm Danny, but he pushed it down as a slight blush dusted across his cheeks.  Still, he didn’t look away from what he was doing as he responded.  “I, uh, can’t eat apples.  There were a few slices in the oatmeal you left out for me.”

The butler gave a nod.  “My apologies, sir.”

Danny shrugged, cracking two eggs into the now-hot pan.  “‘Sfine.  Not like you knew.”

“Ah.”  There was a slight pause, as though the man didn’t know what to say to keep the conversation going, and knowing that Danny wouldn’t contribute if he didn’t have to.  “I trust your room was… acceptable?”

“Yeah,” came Danny’s terse reply as he tossed some cheese, veggies, and ham into his cooking eggs.

“Very good, sir.”  Another pause, another momentary debate on topics.  “Master Wayne wishes you to join him in the garage, when you’re ready.”

Danny began flipping the omelet, one brow raised, but still not looking away from his meal.  “Why?”

Alfred took the question to be a step forward.  At least this was not just a yes or no answer.  Perhaps the boy would actually participate in this conversation?  “He likes to work on his toys, sir.  If you’re interested, he’d appreciate your assistance.”

The teen grabbed out a plate, dumping his omelet on it before snagging a fork from a drawer.  “He wants  _me_  to help with one of his ‘toys’?” he asked as he hopped up to sit on the counter, starting to dig into the omelet.  “Sorry, dude,” he mumbled around a bite of egg, “but I’m not fallin’ for that one.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed some, not having expected to have stumbled backwards rather than forwards.  “…I’m sorry?”

A slight glare fixed on him, and he was disappointed that such an angry look was the first eye contact he’d gotten from the boy.  “I’m not falling for it.  I might’ve a year ago, but not now.  Tell him he can ‘fix’ his  _own_  ‘toys.’”

There was a moment of hesitation before Alfred slowly nodded.  “Very good, sir—”

“That wasn’t a pretense, Daniel,” Bruce stated as he entered from the garage.

Danny’s glare didn’t lessen any.  “Well, sorry, but I’m gonna go with what I’ve learned over the past two years rather than what you  _say_  will happen.”

Bruce wasn’t fazed but the snarl.  “Understandable.  I meant no foreplay.  If you’re uninterested, no harm done.  Should you change your mind sometime, the offer stands.  One of the Rolls needs some special attention, but it can wait another day.”

The teen glanced away, finishing the last few bites of his omelet before hopping off the table to wash the plate and skillet, refusing to meet their eyes.

Alfred came towards the stove, reaching out for the dishes.  “Please, Master Fenton.  I’ll take care of the clean-up.”

Danny dodged around the butler, blushing a bit due to the instinctive response.  “I’d… rather do it myself, thanks.”

A faint crease appeared in the Englishman’s brow, no doubt from confusion, but he hid it well.  “It’s no trouble, really.  But, if you insist….”

“I do,” Danny stated immediately.

Another pause, then Alfred nodded.  “Very well, sir.  I believe I’ll go check on the dogs.”  He headed out, leaving Bruce and Danny alone in the kitchen.

Danny stared after him for a moment, blinking slowly.  “…Dogs?”

“Of course,” Bruce responded.  “Dobermans, Rottweilers.  Part of the security measures.  You understand.”

Now, Danny turned to face the man.  “You… have dogs here?”

Bruce blinked at the boy, unsure why he kept asking that.  “…Yes, I do.  They don’t typically come in the house, but they  _are_  close by.”

For a moment, Danny felt the excitement build inside him before he could stamp it back down.  Dogs!  He’d always wanted one, and he knew from experience that animals naturally loved him thanks to his ghost form’s protective and friendly aura.  But he couldn’t let this man know he was happy to hear of the dogs.  “Oh.  Okay.”

Of course, Bruce being Bruce saw straight through the ruse, even if he didn’t show it.  “Would you like to meet them?”

Danny wanted to scream out  _yes!_ , but he couldn’t show any form of weakness to these people.  He’d learned that lesson well over the past two years.  Instead, he shrugged.  “Sure, I guess.”

Bruce gestured towards the backyard.  “After you.”

The two walked out together in silence for a while.  Then, Bruce tried once more to start a conversation.  “So… have you had any experience with animals?”

“A little,” was Danny’s terse response.

“How are you at handling… energetics?”  Bruce knew that the dogs could be overly excitable, but they were usually on their best behavior when he or Alfred were around.  Still, it’d be best to make sure that Danny would be ready for whatever could happen.

“As in, hyper dogs?”  Danny shrugged.  “I can handle it fine.”

A light chuckle escaped the billionaire.  “Good to hear.”

As they approached the kennel, they could hear the rabid eating of the dogs as they tore into whatever meal Alfred had brought them.  “It appears they like bacon, Master Wayne!” the butler called as they entered.

Danny rolled his eyes, biting back a chuckle.  “They’re dogs, they’ll usually like almost  _anything_  they’re given,  _especially_  if it’s meat.”

Alfred smiled at the teen.  “This is true.  Though, these boys are  _exceptionally_  energetic in  _everything_.  Helps when you have the occasional… unwelcome guest.”

Danny heard all this, of course, but he still moved towards the cages, squatting just outside them and holding out a hand for the dogs to sniff at.  After a moment of curious snuffling, they happily began licking at his hand, then the other when he added it, then up his arms and face.

Bruce and Alfred watched in silence for a while as the boy tried to fight back a grin as the dogs gathered around him.  Finally, Bruce called out to him.  “Just so you know, if you’d found your way back here without the company of Alfred or myself, your greeting would be far less… amicable.”

The teen just shrugged, still petting the dogs.  “You might think that.  Animals just seem to naturally like me.”

Bruce chuckled once more.  “That may well be.  However, these animals are bred and trained specifically to attack  _anyone_  who gets on the grounds without a… proper introduction.”

Alfred cut in, noticing the mounting tension in the boy and the slight glare on his face.  The dogs had noticed it, too, dealing with it by being even more fervent in their attention on the teen.  “You must understand, Master Fenton.  One of our beliefs is that we should be professional to everyone—”

“But not naive,” Bruce finished.  “These dogs follow that creed.  They’re friendly now, but, like all animals, they sense mood changes  _much_  better than most people.  If things were to turn sour between you and either of us….”

“They’ll attack with the intent to kill,” Danny said bluntly, “I know.”

There was a slight pause before Bruce nodded.  “Exactly.  While I wouldn’t want anyone to come to any undue harm, this doesn’t mean that my doors are perpetually open to anyone, anytime.”

Alfred could still feel the tension.  After another moment of hesitation, he stated, “I believe I’ll go check on the garden, sir.”

“Very well, Alfred.”

As the butler walked away, Danny continued to pet the dogs, ignoring Bruce for the most part.

Bruce looked down to the dogs, realizing just how happy they were with their new friend.  Then, he laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

The boy spun, grabbing Bruce by the wrist and snarling at him, “ _What?!_ ”

The billionaire raised his free hand in a surrendering pose.  “My apologies.  My curiosity got the better of me, I’m afraid.”

Danny’s eye was twitching slightly, the dogs starting to raise their hackles at the obvious anxiety in the air, their eyes bouncing between the two humans as if unsure which to side with.  “Curiosity about  _what_ , exactly?” the boy demanded.

Bruce smiled.  “Why, your reflexes, of course.  Believe it or don’t, but I confess that I see something of myself in you.”  But then, his eyes darkened some, glancing off to the side as he thought back over his past.  “I wasn’t  _always_  a benevolent affluent….”

But Danny just glared.  “Good for you.”

The billionaire blinked himself back to the present, softening a bit.  “Again, my apologies.  I’ll… give you a moment with the dogs.”  Then, he walked out of the room.

Danny waited until he was gone, then sighed and turned back to the dogs.  “…Least  _he_  knows how to back off….” he murmured.

The dogs whined a bit, then one jumped, knocking Danny over as they all came over to lick at his face, effectively making the boy laugh.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**


	3. Chapter 3

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_The soldiers that didn’t come back were the heroes. It’s a roll of the dice. If a bullet has your name on it, you’re a hero. If you hear a bullet go by, you’re a survivor._ **

Alfred whistled a tune as he cooked lunch, placing finished dishes on the table as he worked.  “I sure hope  _this_  meal is a bit more… palatable.”

Bruce entered from his study.  “So, Alfred, what’s on the menu today?”

The butler smiled at his old friend.  “I thought to have a bit of a smorgasbord.”  He gestured at the row of covered dishes set out.

The billionaire glanced around at it.  “You  _continually_  out-do yourself, Alfred.”

The elder man bowed.  “Thank you, sir.”

“It smells great,” Bruce added with a grin of his own, though Alfred could tell that he wasn’t quite as happy as his facade would make him out to be.

“…How did it go?”

“He’s certainly quick,” Bruce commented, “though….”

Alfred smiled back, hoping to lift his friend’s spirits.  “He’ll be alright.  He may not have taken too kindly to your… advance, but he’ll come around.”

Bruce sighed.  “I certainly  _hope_  so.  I know all  _too_  well the feeling from the other end….”

“The other end of what, Father?” Damian asked as he came into the kitchen.

The man didn’t even turn to face his son, so instead Alfred saw his sour look.  “An uncomfortable situation.”

Damian crossed his arms.  “Tut.  Is that  _boy_  causing undue frustration?”

Alfred sighed.  “Master Wayne,  _you’re_  the only ‘boy’ in this residence.”

The ten-year-old just huffed.

“What have you been up to today?” Bruce asked, hoping to get on a better topic.

“I have already patrolled around Gotham while  _you_  simply loafed around like the bo—” at their stern looks, he changed his wording with a scowl “—like  _him_.”

“…Exactly what do you mean by ‘patrolled’?”

Damian rolled his eyes.  “You know  _exactly_  what I mean.”  Then he frowned, adding in disappointment, “There was nothing more than a simple robbery today, though.”

Alfred sighed.  “I certainly hope the young master knows that the police are there for  _more_  than simply calling for help.”

“Indeed,” Bruce continued.  “They are in place, as I’ve stated before, to take care of  _most_  crimes.  We are called in only for… extenuating circumstances.  Besides that, I don’t think I need to remind you that my relative seclusion is  _not_  just a stereotype of our living conditions.”

Damian answered his father’s slight glare with a scowl, “Grayson, while being  _far_  too immature, certainly took more of a proactive role when  _he_ was—“

“When who was what?”  Of course, that was when Danny walked in, toweling off his damp hair and missing a shirt.  For the first time, the Waynes and their butler took in the sight of faded scars crisscrossing the boy’s chest, along with the reddened areas on his right side and arm that were obviously burn marks.

Bruce smoothed over his expression of surprise to a more neutral one and replied, “We were just discussing a friend’s recent stay with us.”

The comment helped Alfred also recover from his shock, happily reminiscing.  “I can’t  _count_  how many guests this house has sheltered over the years.”

The teen frowned some, deadpanning, “Awesome, it’s a frat house.”

Bruce smiled a bit at that.  “Quite.  We  _have_  had our share of parties….”

“Great.  Another party house….”  With a roll of his eyes and a scowl, Danny turned towards the table, walking forward as he ruffled his hair more with the towel.  “What all we havin’?”

Alfred hesitated a moment, a bit off-put by how quickly the boy changed subjects.  “A little of everything, sir.  After my last… mishap, I decided to go a little safer.  Salad, steak, a little sushi.”  Alfred uncovered the dishes as he spoke.  “If something else interests you, I’m  _more_  than happy to oblige!”

Danny simply nodded, grabbing a plate.  “Sounds good.”

But Damian had to throw a fuss, crossing his arms.  “What mishap?  Alfred is  _not_  one to serve sub-par food.”

Bruce just sighed at his son’s belligerence.

“Food allergies are a different matter, Master Damian.”

Damian sneered at the teen.  “So he  _does_  have flaws.”

“Imagine that,” Danny snarked back, rolling his eyes, “a human being with  _flaws_.”

Bruce smirked at the teen’s response.  “In my experience, the person with the  _biggest_  flaw is he who thinks he has  _none_.”

And once more Damian took offense.  “I am  _not_  stating I have no flaws, merely that since  _he_  got here, everyone seems to act as though  _he_ has none.”

“ _Really_ , Master Damian,” Alfred admonished.  “He’s not been here a whole  _day_  yet.  You  _never_  cease to amaze me at how quickly you pass judgments.”

Danny just rolled his eyes, piling food onto his plate.  “I’ll just eat in my room and spare  _Master Damian_  my presence.”  Once his plate was sufficiently overflowing, he turned and headed towards the stairs.

A moment passed where Bruce and Alfred glanced at each other before Bruce gave a slight nod towards the stairs, and Alfred rushed to catch up.  “M—Master Fenton?”

Danny blinked.  “Uh, yeah?”

“I  _certainly_  hope… that you do not believe either Master Bruce or myself share opinions with that… child.”

The teen raised an eyebrow.  “You sound as though you’re upset he’s even here.  What exactly made you so against the ‘young Master Wayne’?”

Alfred shook his head.  “Do not misunderstand me, sir.  I do  _not_  regret his being here.  He  _is_  family, after all.  I  _do_ , however, wish he was more… cautious with his words.  Forgive my intrusion, but I believe you may understand somewhat when I say that his initial upbringing was somewhat… different than that of his father.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I kinda got that.”

“Nevertheless,” Alfred continued, “there is  _no_  excuse for such… immaturity, particularly in the presence of a guest.  If you wish to retire to your room, that is your prerogative.  However…”  He gave a quick glance downstairs before looking back to the tall teen, “it is not necessary for you to be the one who exits the kitchen….”

“Yeah, well, in my recent experience, the foster  _family_  is in charge, regardless of who’s at fault, so in cases like this,  _I’m_  the one who’d better leave.”

Not for the first time, the butler had to push away his concern for what the boy had been through since his parents had passed away.  “…I understand  _completely_ , sir.  I merely wish to make you aware that that is  _certainly_  not the case here.  The choice is yours, of course.  Master Bruce and I simply want to make sure you aren’t being forced into  _anything_.”

For a long moment, Danny couldn’t seem to make eye contact, glancing away from Alfred.  Then, just as the butler was about to head back down to the kitchen, there was a quiet murmur.  “…Thanks.”

The Brit bowed.  “Of course, sir.  As I said, I meant no intrusion.”  And Alfred turned to leave the boy in peace.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

Alfred rinsed off the dishes, happily chatting with Bruce, who sat at the table, laptop out and running.  “I  _certainly_  hope Master Daniel joins us for dinner.”

Bruce smiled slightly.  “I think that’s possible.  He seems  _more_  than able to hold his own against Damian.”

The butler grinned back.  “My thoughts exactly, sir.”

“Still, I  _do_  think it would be within reason to try and arrange it so that the boy is… occupied more often.”  Bruce glanced back at his laptop, his mouth slowly downturning slightly.  “He seems  _bent_  on doing grunt work, so I may see if Gordon could use someone of his… enthusiasm.”

Alfred chuckled, continuing to wash the dishes.  Admittedly, the boy was very interested in his work, but he  _did_  need to learn to curb that enthusiasm at times.

His thoughts were cut off by the doorbell chiming.  Bruce glanced towards the door as Alfred set down the dishes, dried his hands, and went over to the entrance.  “Yes?”

_“Hello,”_  Amika called through the wood,  _“um, is this not a good time?”_

Alfred opened the door, greeting, “Miss Amika, good afternoon.”

The woman gave a sheepish smile.  “Hello.  This is okay, yes?  Or should I come back later?”

He smiled and gestured for her to come inside.  “No, no, not at all.  Please, do come in.”

The two headed back to the kitchen area, Amika following the Brit.  “So, just off the record,” she began, a slight, knowing quirk to her lips, “how difficult is Danny being so far?”

Alfred grinned back at her.  “He’s doing quite well, I should say.  Though I won’t say much more right now, ma’am.  I try to not make snap judgements of anyone.”

By this point, they had reached the table, and Bruce added, “Nor do I.  It is our intention, Amika, that we give each person opportunity to prove their worth in their own ways, whichever direction they choose to do so.”

“That is admirable, Mr. Wayne,” she replied.  “I’m glad you were willing to take him in.”

Bruce smiled in that way that must have got him the title of playboy.  “I appreciate your professionalism, but please, Bruce, if you don’t mind.”

Amika blushed.  “Of course.  So, have there been any problems?”

“Nothing serious,” Alfred answered.  When Amika turned a worried glance his way, he quickly added, “I don’t wish to alarm you, ma’am.  It hasn’t been perfect for  _anyone_ , but I doubt it’s been unduly difficult.”

“Change is  _never_  easy,” Bruce joined in, “but I believe he’s fitting in well.  Though, I imagine you’d have to ask him to be sure.”

“Of course.  I do plan on speaking with him, but later.”  She squared her shoulders, looking the two more confidently in the eye.  “Please, I really  _do_  need to know what all has happened, just for records.”

Bruce’s look also turned more serious.  “Again, I appreciate your… thoroughness, but I wish to keep as much of my privacy intact as possible.”

For a moment, the three were quiet, then Alfred spoke up.  “He seems to have come… abreast of young Master Damian, but, then… everyone does,” he admitted.

Amika’s look turned confused.  “Damian?  Who would that be?”

“Damian is my son,” Bruce replied.

The woman blinked at him for a moment, a hand coming up to her mouth.  “Oh, dear.  I didn’t realize that you already had a child to take care of.  Are you quite sure that it’s not too much trouble—?”

Bruce just smiled.  “Don’t worry, Amika.  Chase wouldn’t’ve dropped my name if it were.”

“Right.  Well, if you wish not to say what issues have occurred, then I shall simply check in on Danny and be on my way.”

Alfred nodded.  “Very well, ma’am.  Please don’t misunderstand us.  If there’s a way to help you in your duties without drawing undue attention to this family….”

Amika quickly assured, “Oh, the records are  _very_  confidential.  The only instances in which I would reveal your names would be in the case of adoption or… well, in the event of any illegal activity.”

“I see,” Bruce murmured.  “So, barring the two mentioned instances, who are the individuals with access to these reports?”

“Only me,” Amika replied.  “Even my superiors can’t access the full files, as that goes against Danny’s own confidentiality, as well as yours.”

“…Very well.  He hasn’t been here a full twenty-four hours yet, as you know.  As such, not much has happened.  He’s spent some time with my dogs, we’ve had three meals together… all quite normal, by and large.”

Amika nodded, taking down some notes in a legal pad she’d pulled from her purse.  “You said you have dogs?” she asked, glancing up from her writing.  “Are they pets or guards?”

“A bit of both.  As I explained to Danny, they’re quite friendly under the correct circumstances.  However, should someone gain access to any area of the grounds, particularly after dark… well, let’s just say they don’t wait for an order to apprehend any would-be thieves.”

“I see.”  Amika wrote a little bit more, then looked up again.  “And how has he interacted with the rest of the residents?”

Bruce chuckled.  “Well, since that leaves the two of us, quite well.”

Amika bit her lip, seeming to debate for a moment about what to say, before just asking, “And he hasn’t, er, been disruptive or, well, violent?”

Both men frowned at that.  “No, not at all,” Bruce replied.  “Why do you ask?”

She gave off a nervous chuckle.  “Oh, no reason, no reason at all!  Just forget I mentioned it!  Now, where would Danny be?”

Bruce’s frown turned even more serious at the attempted change of topic.  “Ms. Ouwa, I must insist.  I understand Danny needs privacy, but I also feel I should know  _something_  about his past.   _Especially_  if it pertains to the safety of my home.”

Amika sighed, putting her notepad down and turning to face the man head-on.  “It honestly  _is_  nothing to worry about, for you or me.  I merely ask because, well, the places that he acted up in such a way this early on usually ended up being the ones that were involved in rather… unsavory hobbies.”

The billionaire’s lips pursed.  “I see.  Well, I suppose I can say that he has yet to act in a way that’s not understandable, given his… eventful history.”

“Good.”  There was a moment’s pause, then Amika gasped.  “Oh!  I forgot to mention earlier, but he does have a food allergy—”

Alfred smiled at her.  “Yes, we became aware of his… aversion to a certain round fruit.”

She sighed in relief.  “Oh, good.  I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before, it’s just… in most homes, he simply made his own food.”

This made both men laugh.  “Yes, we’ve noticed that, too,” Bruce stated.  “Nothing to worry about.  I sometimes prefer to prepare my own items.”

Amika grinned wryly at him.  “Yes, but that’s due to choice more than necessity.”

Bruce smirked back.  “A little of both, actually.”

The woman shook her head to clear it, then clapped her hands together.  “So, where might I find Danny?”

“Well,” Bruce said, “I imagine he’s in his room.”

Alfred nodded, gesturing for Amika to follow him again.  “Right this way, ma’am.”

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

_“Hello again, Danny.”_

Alfred shut the door behind him as he entered the Cave.  Bruce had pulled up the security cameras for Danny’s room to check in on the boy and social worker.

_“Hi.”  The teen was sitting on his bed, playing with his switchblade and barely even looking at Amika as she sat in his desk chair._

_She sighed.  “Still not quite the talker you used to be, hm?”_

_One of his eyebrows jumped up at that.  “You’re really bothering asking?”_

Alfred chuckled.  “Quite the healthy relationship, sir.”

“Indeed,” Bruce admitted.

_Amika rolled her eyes.  “Well, let’s just head on to what I’m here for, then, so I don’t bother you too much, hm?”_

_Danny sighed, glancing away.  “…Sorry,” he mumbled._

_She gave a slight grin, making sure Danny couldn’t see.  She was glad that he hadn’t completely shut her out.  “It’s not a problem.  So, what all has happened since I dropped you off?”  She pulled her notepad back out, ready to note any differences in the story Danny would give._

_“Skipped dinner, had a run-in with the brat, slept, made my own breakfast since Alfred’s had apples in it, ate, met the dogs, Bruce grabbed at me, had lunch and another run-in with the brat, and now you’re here.”_

_Amika’s head jerked up sharply at his response.  “What do you mean, he ‘grabbed’ at you?”_

Alfred shifted towards the door anxiously.  “Shall we—?”

“Let’s see how he answers.”

“…Of course, sir….”

_Danny rolled his eyes.  “Not like Swathers.  He grabbed my shoulder while I wasn’t paying attention, so I grabbed his wrist.  He backed off after that.”_

_“I see.”  Amika’s lips pursed, but she nodded and continued writing.  “Were there any other instances that you felt… well, for lack of a better term, threatened?”_

_There was a long pause, Danny fiddling even more with the blade before he quietly admitted, “Alfred snuck up on my while I was making breakfast.”  His face took on the slightest pink tinge of embarrassment.  “I almost hit him with the skillet….”_

The butler cleared his throat, just now realizing how close he’d come to getting knocked out that morning.  “I  _thought_  he seemed… tense….”

Bruce smirked at his old friend.  “You’re lucky he had more restraint than  _I_  had at his age.”

“…Of course,  _you_  didn’t have such a… large implement at  _your_  disposal.”

The billionaire chuckled.  “Quite so.”

_Amika’s hands went to her hips.  “Danny, you know better than to get so startled!”_

_The teen’s arms crossed defensively over his chest.  “I know.  He just….  He was quieter than any of the others.  I couldn’t even hear him coming.”_

Bruce laughed once more.  “You  _do_  have a way about you, Alfred.”

The Brit sheepishly lowered his head.  “Guilty, sir.”

_“Alright, I have just a few more questions.  This… ‘brat,’ I assume you mean Damian Wayne?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“And you don’t get along with him?”_

_Danny just gave her a deadpan look, and she quickly realized her mistake._

_“Okay, stupid question, got it.”_

Alfred sighed.  “I  _told_  her not too many people get along with the child….”  To which Bruce nodded his agreement.

_“Okay, overall, how has this home been in comparison to the previous?  Just take into account—”_

_“First days, I know the procedure by now.”  He shrugged.  “It’s okay.”_

_Amika seemed to realize that was all she’d get from the boy.  “Do you have any concerns as of now?”_

_There was a long pause between the two of them, where Danny stared down at his knife as he tossed it hand to hand slowly and Amika watched him, concern spreading across her face the longer he made her wait._

_“…Danny?”_

_“…No, not right now.”_

The two eavesdroppers watched on, Alfred seeming to notice that the discussion was near its end.  “Should I see the young lady out when she’s ready?”

“When she’s ready, Alfred, no rush.”

“Of course.”

_Amika put away her notepad, turning back to Danny.  “…Is there anything else you wish to speak about?”_

_“….”  Danny sighed, glancing away.  “…No.”_

_The social worker gave a brief sad glance at Danny, then shook her head slightly and nodded.  “Alright, then.  I suppose I’ll be on my way.  You still have my number?”_

_“Both of them.”_

_Amika nodded again.  “Good.  Please feel free to call any time.”_

As she stood to leave, Alfred left the Cave as well, taking a shortcut so he could meet Amika at the stairs.  “How is the young man?”

“As fine as can be expected, I suppose.”  She paused a moment, then glanced back at Alfred.  “Is there any way I might be able to meet Damian?”

Alfred blinked.  “…If you wish.”

“I do.”  Amika felt the need to explain herself, assuring, “It’s nothing personal, you see, I just prefer to meet with  _all_  residents as soon as possible.”

“…Very well.  Follow me, if you will.”  And he turned to lead her back the way she came.

“Thank you very much for indulging me.”

“Not a problem.”  Alfred knocked at Damian’s door.

_“Yes?”_  Damian called to them.

“A young lady wishes to speak with you, sir.”

There was a slight pause before Damian confusedly asked,  _“Are you sure she does not have me confused with Grayson?”_

Alfred smirked.  “No, sir.  She  _specifically_  asked for you.”

“Grayson?” Amika questioned.

“A former resident,” Alfred explained.  “Attends university, occasionally drops by for a chat.”

Amika’s lips pursed.  “Do many people ‘drop by’ often?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Alfred clarified, “Please do not misunderstand, ma’am.  This is not a frat house.  We’ve had a few people through these rooms over the years, but we allow  _no_  uncouth persons to live here.  We  _certainly_  wouldn’t let such characters return if they  _had_ been here at some point.”

“I see.”

The door opened before them, and Damian glanced at Amika.  “Who might you be?”

She gave a slight bow.  “Amika Ouwa.  I’m Danny’s social worker.”

“Miss Ouwa wishes to speak with you, as I said.”  The butler gave Damian a stern face just outside Amika’s line of sight.  “I expect you to oblige.”

The boy nodded.  “What brings you to me, Ms. Ouwa?”

“I simply wished to meet all the residents,” she explained.  “Though I hear you and Danny have already come at odds?”

He huffed, crossing his arms.  “He kept me up last night, and before that called me a brat.”

Amika blushed a bit.  “Yes, well, unfortunately I don’t see that second part changing, but what do you mean by him keeping you up?”

“He was yelling in his sleep.”

Bruce came up behind them, stating, “I explained to my son that some people have… issues while asleep.”

“Ah, yes.  Danny… well, he does tend to have nightmares.  He’s experienced some pretty traumatic events,” Amika said sadly.

“As is understandable, given his… history.”

Damian scowled at his father.  “What history?”

Bruce nearly scowled back, just the thought of the other foster families Danny had been with annoying him.  “He’s had some previous… residences who, apparently, were… less than ideal.”

“And he lost his parents, friends, and sister in a rather tragic way,” Amika continued.  “It’s only natural that he would tend to relive these events in his sleep.”

But Damian was still schowling.  “And thus keep  _me_  awake?”

Of course, that just happened to be when Danny walked by on his way down to the kitchen, saying, “I can always move down a few rooms to make sure you get your beauty sleep.”

Before Damian could even react past fuming, Danny was gone.  The elder two males chuckled, Bruce reiterating, “As I said, he seems to be fitting in quite well.   _Certainly_  seems able to handle my  _son_  rather well.”

Amika grinned.  “That’s good to know.”  She bowed again, saying, “Well, I’d best be off.  You both have my number should you need to contact me, yes?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll walk you out, ma’am,” Alfred offered, gesturing to the stairway.

“Thank you, again, for taking him in,” Amika finished before following Alfred out.

Bruce looked to Damian.  “Well done.  I’m proud of your restraint there.”

Damian scowled back at his father.  “What restraint?  The coward left before I had a chance to comment!”

One of the billionaire’s eyebrows raised at that.  “Really?  It’s never stopped you before.”

The boy just huffed.

“Still, though, I  _am_  proud of you.”  Bruce smiled.  “I know how difficult it is to hold in your feelings.  As I’ve told you before, venting isn’t wrong.  It’s how you do it that counts.  There are several,  _much_  more… fulfilling ways of letting off steam than simply mouthing off.”

Damian gave a slight smirk.  “Like locking up the Joker and his misfits?”

Bruce winked.  “Bingo.”

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esperanto translations at the end.

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Being a survivor doesn’t mean being strong - it’s telling people when you need a meal or a ride, company, whatever. It’s paying attention to heart wisdom, feelings, not living a role, but having a unique, authentic life, having something to contribute, finding time to love and laugh. All these things are qualities of survivors._ **

Danny scrubbed violently at the plates as he washed them.  “Jerky little brat…” he grumbled to himself, scraping even harder.  “Thinking he’s so much  _better_  than everyone—”  The dish broke under his pressure, small splinters of the china digging into his palms.  “Ouch!  Dammit!”

“Need some help?” Bruce called from the hallway entrance.

The teen winced, keeping his hands under the water and out of sight even as the soap burned his cuts.  “ _No!_ ”

Bruce shrugged.  “Okay, just asking.”  He turned, starting back towards his study.  “Give a shout if you do.  Alfred or myself would be happy to assist.”

Danny spent a moment waiting for Bruce to leave, then pulled his hands out, hissing in a breath at the bit of blood coming from the cuts.  “Dammit,” he huffed to himself, “at least there’s only one big piece actually  _stuck_ ….”  He held up the gouged hand out of the way, rummaging through the cabinets.  “Where’s the damn first-aid kit…?”

While he was focused on his search, Alfred walked up tentatively.  “Here, sir,” he murmured, placing the kit next to the sink and opening it.

A blush spread quickly across Danny’s face, mostly from embarrassment as he avoided the butler’s glance and pulled the large piece of china from his hand.

“…If you need any help,” Alfred mentioned, “don’t hesitate to ask.  No one else needs know about this, if that’s your concern here….”

For a moment, Danny seemed to just stare blankly at his wound.  Then, “…Yeah, thanks.”

Alfred gingerly took the boy’s hand, disinfecting the cuts.  “No problem, sir.  I understand wanting to help oneself, but… well… sometimes  _that_ can be detrimental.”

Danny watched as Alfred began wrapping his hands.  “…You’re pretty good at that.”

The butler smirked, eyes twinkling as if he’d heard an inside joke.  “I’ve had some experience with cuts and the like over the years.”

One of the teen’s eyebrows jumped up at that.  “Bruce doesn’t seem like the clumsy type.  Nor does Damian, for that matter.”

The Brit still kept smirking.  “Clumsy is one thing,  _life_  is another.  No one, in my experience, goes through life without obtaining any scars, cuts, or bruises.”

Danny nodded absent-mindedly, thoughts still on the other two residents of the Manor.  “In fact,” he mumbled to himself, “both of them seem more…  _graceful_  than anything else….”  Bruce, he could understand.  Dude probably had etiquette lessons all his life, being a freaking billionaire, but Damian?  That kid had less tact than a toaster oven.

“Well, it’s a cliché, but it’s true.  Practice makes perfect.  The old nature-nurture issue doesn’t hurt, either.”

“I bet.”  There was a long pause, Danny completely lost in thought.

Alfred hesitated a moment more before speaking up.  “…Something wrong, sir?”

It almost looked as though Danny wouldn’t answer.  Just when Alfred was about to tie off the bandages and pack up the kit, the teen muttered, “It’s… been a while since anyone’s been this… nice.”

“…I see.  Well, I’m glad I could be of assistance.”  The butler finished his wrapping, fastening the wrap down with some medical tape before putting the supplies back where they belonged.  “Is there anything else you need, sir?  Maybe I could finish cleaning up for you?  It’s  _no_  trouble, I assure you.”

Danny bit his lip.  “I—I know it’s no trouble, it’s just….”  His voice quietened.  “…It’s what I’m used to.”

Alfred nodded.  “I understand  _completely_ , sir.  If you wish to continue alone, that would be fine.  Either way, it’s your choice.”

From the look on Danny’s face, it was as though no one had ever offered the teen an option like that.  Or at least, Alfred supposed, not since he lost his family.  “I—um….”  He glanced away for a moment, then back to Alfred.  “You can finish it up.”  He started towards the door, then turned once more to the Brit.  “And, um, thanks.”

Danny rushed out.

Alfred smiled after him, not caring that he wasn’t near to hear his response.  “Anytime, sir….”

“So, what was the problem?” Bruce asked as he entered the room.

The older man dunked his hands into the soapy water, continuing where the boy had left off with the dishes.  “Nothing serious, sir.  Just a little… accident.”

“…I see.  How is he?”

The butler sighed.  “Still defensive, of course.  But I think he’s starting to warm a bit.”

“I hope so,” Bruce replied, leaning against a counter.  “I remember only  _too_  well how difficult it was for me to break out of my shell….”

“As do _I_ , sir.”

Bruce cleared his throat a bit, then changed the subject.  “Anyway, I think Damian is making progress.”

Alfred grinned at that.  “ _Indeed_ , sir.  He was  _exceptionally_  well-behaved whilst Ms. Ouwa was present.”

“I told him as such.”  Bruce nodded.  “He still shows some of his… mother’s influence, but I think he, too, is coming around.”

A loud crash from upstairs interrupted them, followed by yelling.

_“Hey!  Watch it!”_

_“Perhaps **you**  are the one who was at fault, hm?!”_

The two men shared a glance, then rushed upstairs.  There, they found Danny and Damian, nose-to-nose, yelling at each other.  “…What happened?” Bruce demanded, trying to stay calm, but truly staying just below his signature Batman voice.

The boys pointed at each other, snarling, “He ran into me!”

Bruce sighed.  “Down, you two!”

Danny huffed, crossing his arms.  “All I was doing was heading up to my room.”

Damian scowled back.  “Perhaps if you didn’t let your hair block your view like that, you would’ve  _seen_  that I was coming down the stairs!”

“Okay, back up,” Bruce ordered.  “ _One at a time_ , tell me what you were doing  _before_  the… collision.  You first, Danny.”

The boy rolled his eyes but replied.  “I had been washing my dishes from lunch.  Then I headed up the stairs to my room.”

Bruce nodded.  “Alright.  Damian?”

“I was heading down to see if you were in the study.”

The billionaire knew his son was highly aware of his surroundings most of the time, the only exceptions being when he was arguing with one of his adoptive brothers or when listening to his music.  And a simple glance at the boys ears told him what really happened.  “You have your earphones in again, yes?”

Damian seemed to try to stop a blush, but failed.  “N—No!”

One of Bruce’s brows rose, but Danny simply snagged the cord for one of the headphones.  “If you weren’t wearing them, then your ear sprouted a wire.”

The boy glared at the teen as he tugged the earbuds out and stuffed them into his pockets.

“I thought as much,” Bruce continued.  “While it  _may_  be possible for Daniel to have been preoccupied en route to his room, he’d  _still_  have more situational awareness than you tend to in one of your zones.”

“Tt!” Damian argued, turning on Danny.  “Perhaps you’d not have such problems if you brushed your hair out of your face!”  He swiped at the hair covering Danny’s right eye, revealing a scar that slit straight across the slightly-off-color blue iris.

While the hand was still in the air, Danny snatched it by the wrist, snarling, “ _Don’t. Touch. Me_.”

Alfred stepped forward, separating the boys and briefly attempting to brush the teen’s hair back down over his eye before a short growl from the boy changed his mind.  Bruce, however, was nearly batglaring at his son.  “Damian, to your room,  _please_.”

The boy huffed, stomping back up the stairs.

“Danny, if you’ll join me downstairs?” Bruce asked, dropping the glare as much as he could.

The teen ducked his head down so his bangs hid the scar, but followed Bruce downstairs.

They made their way slowly to the library, where the billionaire gestured towards an armchair.  “Please.”

Danny sat, extremely tense, nearly shaking with nerves and some lingering anger.

Bruce paced slowly before him.  “I understand if you do not want to talk,” he began.  “I certainly would not force anything on you.  The scar,”  _and the other scars you’re hiding_ , he added mentally, “is  _your_  business until such time as you see fit to share it with anyone else here, assuming that time does come.  I merely brought you here because it’s the one place in this house that’s always helped me… unwind.  If you wish to talk, myself and Alfred are here to lend an ear or two.  If not, I will leave you to your thoughts.”

The teen barely paid attention to the speech, glancing around the room and slowly relaxing into the chair.

With a small nod, Bruce decided that was about as good as he’d get from the boy while in the same room.  “Very well.  I’ll leave you alone.  Alfred will be in the kitchen, I’ll be in my study in case you need one of us.”  He waited a moment, then left.

As soon as the man was gone, Danny made his way over to a shelf, grabbing a few books and sliding down to sit cross-legged next to the shelf.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

“Dinner is served!” Alfred called out to the manor, knowing full well that those in residence seemed able to hear any meal announcement regardless of where they may be.

Sure enough, Bruce walked through the doorway mere moments later, grinning.  “Smells great, as usual, Alfred.”

The butler bowed.  “Thank you, sir!”

Damian came in next, sitting quickly.  “It looks wonderful, Alfred.”

Alfred beamed at the rare, unprompted (and for once, not backhanded) compliment.  “Flattered, sir.”  He glanced around the table, immediately noticing the unclaimed setting.  “Has anyone seen Daniel?”

“Not since the… incident,” Bruce admitted.

Damian actually wasn’t scowling when he answered.  “He did not come back upstairs.”

The Brit cast a quick look towards the direction of the library.  “Perhaps I should go check on him?”

Bruce smiled up at him.  “Good idea.”  He patted Damian on the shoulder.  “I’ll keep the hound at bay.”

The boy crossed his arms and huffed, and Alfred and Bruce both realized that the unusual moment of peace from the ten-year-old was over.

Alfred excused himself quickly, making his way to the library, where he found the missing teen slumped against a shelf, head lolling on his shoulder.  The Brit walked over slowly, smiling at the scene and lowering his voice.  “Master Dan—”

The teen bolted upright, turning slightly and throwing himself into a backwards somersault away from Alfred, landing in a crouch.

“…Dinner is ready, sir,” the butler murmured, blinking still in shock.

Danny was breathing heavily from the exertion, but replied, “R—Right, I’ll—I’ll be down in—in a minute.”

Alfred nodded, remaining back a few paces so Danny could calm himself down.  “Very good, sir,” he said before heading back to the kitchen.

“So?” Damian demanded when Alfred entered again.  “Where was he?  What was he doing that was so important he could not answer you?”

The elder man smiled.  “Catching some z’s, I believe.”

Bruce sighed.  “Not unusual for that room.”

Damian rolled his eyes.  “Then how long will it take for him to wake up and come for dinner?”

“Dunno, how long was that?” the teen in question asked as he came in and sat at his spot.

Alfred chuckled.  “Enough for  _some people_ , obviously.”

Danny grabbed his plate, dragging it close and digging in quickly.

The other three simply watched for a few minutes before Bruce spoke up.  “So… sleep well?”

Fenton blushed.  “Um, y—yeah, thanks.”

The billionaire smiled, reminding, “As I said, it’s great for unwinding.”

Alfred smirked at his eldest master, remembering all too well how frequently he had to wake up the man after a late night reading session.  “Indeed, sir.”

But Danny ignored them both, too busy tearing into his food, eating as though he’d never see another meal.  Alfred’s smirk faded a bit into concern, about to reassure the boy that he needn’t eat so much or so quickly, but a shake of the head from Bruce deterred him.  When the teen started to grab for seconds, however, Damian scowled.

“Hey,” the child snapped, “wait for the rest of us to get done before you take seconds!”

Alfred shook his head.  “Master Damian, there is  _plenty_  for  _everyone_.”

The pre-teen huffed while the teen rolled his eyes but kept eating.  Damian scowled once more, snarling, “Fine.  Then what  _else_  should we talk about, hm?  What do  _you_  propose?”

“How you’re a conceited snob?” the teen grumbled around a mouthful.

Before Alfred could even think to scold him for such poor etiquette, Damian shot back, “How about where you got that scar?”

“That’s for  _him_  to divulge when  _he_  is ready,” Bruce interrupted, nearly glaring at his son, “ _not_  before.”

Damian scowled.  “I do not understand why you do not interrogate him as you have so many others!” he snapped at his father.  “What makes him above your usual suspicion?  Why should he be able to keep secrets while staying with us?”

Bruce glared right back, barely managing to stay below the Batglare levels.  “It is  _his_  choice to divulge personal information.”  He softened his look a bit, turning towards Danny, stern rather than angry.  “Unless, of course, such withholding affects the sanctity of my home.  Secrets are understandable.   _Danger_ , however, is to be dealt with.”

For a moment, Danny couldn’t think past the word “secrets”.  He knew there was no way the man could have found out about him already, but his brain still stuttered on that phrase.  Finally, he turned his own glare on the others.  “Well, you don’t have to worry about any danger.  The person who gave me this is dead.”  He stood abruptly, spitting out a quick, “Thanks for dinner, Alfred,” before leaving.

Alfred turned to his younger charge.  “Very well done, Master Damian.”

“Tt,” the boy huffed, crossing his arms.  “If I had not pushed him, he never would have said anything!”

“That’s the  _point_ , son,” Bruce stated.  “If you want information, there are ways to get it without forceful regurgitation.”

Damian gave another huff, then also stood and left.

Bruce sighed, slumping slightly in his seat.  “One step forward….”

“Two steps back, sir,” Alfred finished, giving a slight smile.  “Such is life.”

“…Too true.”

The relative calm was broken suddenly as Damian rushed back in.  “He is speaking with someone!” he declared.  “In a language I do not know!”

Again, Bruce sighed, automatically assuming how the boy had learned this.  “You were in the study, weren’t you?”

Damian shook his head.  “No, I could hear him on my way into my room.”

The billionaire blinked for a moment before denying, “Somehow I doubt someone such as he would be speaking loud enough to hear, particularly if he was speaking in another language.”

“I believe he assumed we were all still eating,” Damian replied.

Figuring that was much more likely, Bruce seemed to mull over his current options before asking, “Can you remember anything he said  _verbatim?_ ”

“Yes,” the boy immediately stated, somewhat affronted that his father would think he’d have less than perfect recall.  Then, he grudgingly admitted, “But I wouldn’t know how to spell it, and I may not pronounce them the same.”

Bruce smirked slightly, knowing the child was unhappy to admit to a perceived flaw.  “Humor me.”

With another nod, Damian explained.  “He started.  ‘Do, kip estis okazanta en Amikeco?’  Then the other said, ‘Ne multe.  Ili ankoraŭ rekonstruo la lernejo.  La temo estas pli kip okazas en la Spirito Zono.’  Then Fenton again, ‘Kial?  Kio okazis?’  And the other answered with, ‘Nova fantom faras sin konataj.  Li iras per la nomo de Hefesto.’”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look, both knowledgable enough in the language used to have caught the gist.  “You’re sure?” Bruce questioned.

“Yes.  Why?”  Damian seemed to realize that something was amiss.  “What language was it?  What did they say?”

Another sigh escaped the billionaire.  “First, you must  _promise_  to  _not_  bring any of this up to Danny.”  A slight Batglare accompanied his order.  “Comprende?”

Damian pursed his lips, crossing his arms, but huffing out, “Fine.”

“…Have you heard of Esperanto?”

The boy blinked at his father, debating for a moment if he’d heard him right before replying, “It’s an old language, hardly ever used any more.”

“It seems this is another area where ‘experts’ are very wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Damian demanded, brow furrowing.

“Let’s just say that there’s another,  _older_  use for this language.”

“You mean as a code?”

Bruce sighed, trying not to roll his eyes and momentarily surprised that he was going to admit this.  “Not exactly.  More like Casper-ese.”

Damian shot him a deadpan glare.  “You expect me to believe that it is used by  _ghosts?_ ” he scoffed.  “There are no such thing.”

His father couldn’t help but chuckle at that.  “I’ve told you before, Damian.  Disbelief doesn’t affect existence.  If anything, it  _helps_  it.”

The boy just scowled.  “Ignoring the ‘ghost’ aspect,” he said, determined to get back on track, “what was said?”

“Well,” Bruce said, thinking back over what had been said, “there’s really  _no_ way to ignore that aspect.  It was quite prominent in what was said.”

“Amikeco, sir?” Alfred broke in, a concerned look crossing over his features.  “He’s not referring to—?”

“I believe he  _is_ … which would  _certainly_  explain his behavior….”

“Amikeco?” Damian interrupted.  “That sounds awfully similar to his social worker’s name.  Were they talking of her?”

Bruce sighed, realizing there was only one way to explain now.  “Damian, please join me in the study.”

The two headed off towards the study, Damian frowning as they did so, before entering the hidden stairwell down to the Batcave.  Once they reached the bottom, Bruce went to the Cray and began typing quickly, pulling up several articles on an event from 2012.

Damian browsed the articles quickly, catching the town name.  “…Amity Park?”  His brow furrowed.  “What does a small town in Colorado have to do with him?”

Bruce sighed.  “How about  _this_.”  He swapped out which articles were in the forefront, focusing in on the details.

For a moment, the boy simply read.  “…This was… two years ago?” he mumbled.  “All within a week?”

“That appears to be the case.”

“…Is there a list of casualties?”

“There might be,” Bruce replied, “but it would be easier if you knew who the survivors are.”

Damian’s brow furrowed again.  “Who?”

“Survivors from the primary carnage?”  Bruce typed a bit more, then had to suppress his own gasp at what he found.

“What is it?” Damian demanded, leaning in to try to see better.

“There was only one survivor from the… eye of the damage.  Our new tenant….”

Damian took a moment to just stare at the information laid before him.  Then, “…How did he survive that, though?”

Both studied the information.  “There’s nothing much here pertaining to that.”  Bruce turned to his son.  “This is something you  _must not_  bring up.  Think of breaking something like this to  _him_  as similar to how you feel about  _him_  finding out about the basement.”

Damian pursed his lips, for once not arguing.  “Understood.”

Bruce nodded.  “Good.  I hope you’ve learned to not judge someone so rashly so soon.  There’s usually a reason people act the way they do.  Not that it’s really an excuse, but….”

“I… will try not to provoke him,” Damian agreed.

“Thank you.  I understand it isn’t easy having someone else around, Damian.  I truly do.  However, if we stop being… open to people in need, we become no better than those who we put behind bars.  In some cases, we become  _worse_  than them.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.”  They glanced again at the information before them before Bruce added, “Now… any chance I can dissuade you from being so… vigilant for petty crimes?  The authorities  _do_  know how to contact us any time of day, yes?”

Damian frowned at that, unhappy to hear that.  “I know.”  He quickly demanded, “You still have not told me what was said.”

“…Synopsis?”  Bruce thought back over the conversation.  “It seems he’s struck a deal with some… friends.  It seems they keep an eye on his hometown while he’s away on… sabbatical.”

“Why would they need to keep an eye on the town for him?”

That was actually a really good point.  “Hmm….”  Bruce thought over what little they knew of the situation and the teen in question, blinking when the answer came to him.  “…Because they fear the return of the perpetrator.”

Damian glanced back once more at the computer.  “But this claims that the perpetrator was found dead.”

“Exactly.”

The boy frowned heavily.  “I don’t understand.  If he is dead, how could he return?”

“…Casper-ese?”

“…You actually believe he may return  _as a ghost?_ ” Damian gaped.

“Why not?  Nothing else fits.”

“But… a  _ghost?_   Really, Father?”

Bruce shot the boy a deadpan look.  “Damian, if you have any preconceptions before an investigation, you’ve defeated yourself before you begin.  I may not be too… quick to jump to such a conclusion, but I  _certainly_  do not shy away from something if all available evidence points in that direction.  ‘If you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’”

“But….”

The billionaire sighed.  “Damian, I must be honest.  If you stick so… vehemently to your… preferences, I have serious doubts as to your abilities to take over someday….”

That got the necessary determination from the boy, as well as the customary scowl.  “I still say there is no such thing,” he denied, “but I shall humor you.”

Bruce hid a grin.  “Very well.  That’s your prerogative.  Now, off to bed!”

“Fine,” the boy huffed, turning and brushing past Alfred on his way out.

“…Did I miss something?” the butler asked.

Bruce finally let the smirk show.  “Not much.”

“Oh, very goo—”  Alfred’s voice cut off as he noticed what was on the screen.  “Good Lord!”

The smirk fell from Bruce’s face.  “Indeed.  It appears our new guest has had quite the… exciting life.”

“That poor,  _poor_  boy,” Alfred murmured, eyes watering some.

“Certainly explains his behavior.”

“I… should say so.”

Bruce glanced up from the screen, taking in the pitying look on his friend’s face.  “Alfred?”

The older man cleared his throat.  “Fine, sir.  Just… a bit similar to—”

“I know.”

For a long moment, both were silent, lost in thoughts of the past.  “…I believe I’ll turn in early tonight,” Alfred finally stated.

Bruce managed a small smile.  “Alright, Alfred.  Sleep well, old friend.”

“And you, sir,” Alfred replied with a bow before he turned and left.

Once he was gone, Bruce switched to the video feeds, scanning through the various outdoor cameras.  “Hm… seems like a quiet night outside.”  He flipped to the indoor feed.  “Damian’s asleep.  Danny—”

The teen in question was thrashing in his bed and whimpering.

“Great, another nightmare….”

Bruce watched as the teen mumbled in his sleep, cleaning up the audio and cutting down the background noises.

_“No….  Get ‘way….”_   He was kicking at his blankets.   _“Get off me!”_

“Reliving the event, no doubt,” Bruce sighed.

The blankets were tossed to the floor, a final yell of,  _“GET AWAY!”_ echoing as the boy jolted upright, breathing heavily and digging his hands into his hair.

Bruce tapped the button to allow him to speak to the boy.  “Everything alright in there?”

Danny jumped slightly, glancing about quickly before noticing the camera and glaring at it.  His Hawk came out from a pocket, and he tossed it straight into the lens.

“…Nicely done,” Bruce admitted, still using the speaker and switching to a secondary camera in the room.  “I don’t mean to intrude, but you seemed, well, I think you know.  I’m not typically one to invade privacy, but, well… it wouldn’t do for  _either_  of us if you came to any harm, particularly while… semi-conscious.”

_“Exactly **how**  many cameras  **are**  there in here?”_ Danny snarled.

Bruce chuckled softly.  “Daniel, please.  You aren’t the  _only_  one with secrets.  As I said, I’m not trying to intrude.  However, I would be remissed if I allowed a relative unknown into my home without knowing what was going on when I wasn’t around.  I think you can appreciate such… vigilance.”

The boy was obviously smirking.   _“Oh, **I**  can, sure, but when I tell  **Amika** you’ve put cameras in my room….”_

“I believe she will either see things my way or find some middle ground,” Bruce replied.  “She wouldn’t’ve been given my name without enough knowledge of how I run my own household.  That, and the conversations we’ve had thus far….”

_“But you’re forgetting one thing.  She’s working strictly with **my**  best interests in mind.  She’ll listen to  **me**  before  **you**.”_

“I am forgetting nothing,” the billionaire denied.  “I will understand if you voice a wish to relocate.  I am not trying to force anything on you, Daniel.  However, I will protect my home, my family, and myself before being too… amicable to anyone.  Say what you will to Miss Ouwa, and whatever the outcome I will take no offense whatsoever.”  He clicked off the speaker, switching back to the articles rather than the feeds.  He spared a quick glance at his watch, noticing the late hour but hoping for another opinion.  A few seconds later, he was dialing a number through the computer.

The voice on the other side of the phone was stifling a yawn when it picked up.   _“You realize it’s about four in the morning, right?”_

Bruce chuckled.  “You don’t fool me, kiddo.  I  _know_  how estranged college students are from sleep,  _especially_  you.”

_“Not so much when we’ve got a test in… three hours.”_

“I see,” Bruce said with a frown.  “Well, if that is, indeed, the case, I don’t wish to disturb you.”

A rustling over the line let Bruce know the young man was sitting up now.   _“Oh, no.  You woke me, and you don’t do that unless you’re worried about something.  What’s up?”_

The billionaire sighed.  “You have your laptop hand—?”  He realized who he was speaking to and shook his head.  “Never mind.  Link up with the study mainframe.”

There was a brief pause as the speaker did so.   _“Okay… why am I looking at a massacre from two years ago?”_

“One of the survivors has joined us at the manor.”

Laughter echoed over the line.   _“You’ve taken in yet another kid?  Does he have black hair and blue eyes, too?”_

The question made Bruce realize that, yes, Danny did fall into the “norm” for the kids he’d adopted.  “Indeed.  However, I must admit, he’s  _much_ more helpful than the  _last_  resident….”

A snicker came across the connection.   _“You still being hard on Dami?  He’s just a kid still, Bruce.  You remember how **I**  used to be at his age!?”_

“I was referring to  _you_ , Dick.”

Dick Grayson just laughed more, teasing,  _“Have you gotten senile in your old age, Bruce? **I**  wasn’t the last resident there!”_

“True, but you misunderstood me.  I was referring to my rather short-lived… replacement.”

_“Right,”_  Dick said, chuckles slowing some.   _“Still, I’m sure there are **other** places these kids could go besides the Manor.”_

“There are,” Bruce admitted, “but most others don’t have an agent who came to  _me_ , specifically.”

There was a slight pause, then,  _“Wait, someone came to you **specifically?** ”_

“So it seems.  An old acquaintance of Ms. Meridian.”

_“Huh.  But, you have to be careful, Bruce.  You know that this is how the rest of us found out your secret.”_

“Don’t worry, Dick.  I know how to run my own shop.  You each found out, yes, but do you think it was while I was  _completely_  unawares?”

_“I kinda thought Tim had,”_  Dick admitted,  _“but that was probably because he came to me first.”_

Bruce had to laugh at that.  “Yes, he always  _was_  one to think he had something over everyone.”

An echoing chuckle met his comment.   _“Well, he **was**  the most intelligent of all Robins.”_

“Including  _you?_ ” Bruce asked, an eyebrow raising at the man’s unusual modesty.

_“Hey, I never claimed to be the smartest.”_

“Claiming is one thing.  I also never took you to be so… humble.”

_“Don’t give me too much credit,”_  Dick warned.   _“I’m still the best acrobat out of all of us.”_

“ _There’s_  the Grayson I remember so well,” Bruce teased back.

There was a moment of silence between them before Dick spoke up again.   _“So, what about this kid’s got you worried?  It can’t be that you think the killer’s after him, since these articles say he’s dead.”_

“…Actually….”

Dick’s sigh cut off any additional comment Bruce may have had.   _“Alright, what is it?  You think he faked his death, or that he was somehow resurrected like Jason was?  You realize Jason’s thing was a one-time only deal, right?  I mean, unless this psycho happens to be on Ra’s Al Ghul’s good side or has access to a Lazarus Pit.”_

“Of course.”  Bruce wondered for a moment how Dick would take the upcoming knowledge, then decided it couldn’t be worse than Damian’s reaction.  “I’m concerned that he really  _is_  dead….”

A long pause met his statement.   _“…You’re… considering he’s come back as… a ghost?”_

“Exactly.  You’ve studied Esperanto, correct?”

_“Of course.  Though I’ll admit it’s a bit rusty.”_

“Even so, listen to this.”  Bruce patched through the recording from Danny’s room during the time Damian must’ve overheard him.

Dick took a few moments after listening to work through what he’d heard.   _“Hephaestus?”_  he finally wondered.   _“The crippled Greek god?  And how would this kid even **be**  in contact with someone in the Ghost Zone?”_

“My thoughts precisely, Dick,” Bruce replied.  “I think this young man may have certain… abilities of his own.”

_“How’s he getting in touch with them, then?”_  Dick questioned.   _“I doubt he’s using the Manor’s phone line.”_

Bruce glanced briefly at the layouts of the house available on his computer.  “No, that room doesn’t have that kind of access,” he finally answered.  “He must have some kind of… agreement with whoever’s on the other line.”

_“That still begs the question of **how**  they got in touch, though.”_

“It does, indeed.  I’ll look into it from this end.  You’d better get at least  _some_  sleep, Dick.  We can talk again soon.”

_“Alright,”_  Dick agreed.   _“Keep me informed, and let me know if there’s any way I can help.”_

Bruce grinned.  “I always do.”

**7 3|_|5’ |)!(3**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> So, what was going on in Amity?   
> Not much. They’re still rebuilding the school. The issue is what happens in the Ghost Zone.   
> Why? What happened?   
> A new ghost is making itself known. He goes by the name of Hephaestus.


	5. Chapter 5

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too.  They live inside us, and sometimes, they win._ **

Alfred was just finishing up breakfast when Bruce came in from the study.  With a deep breath, he sighed and asked, “Waffles and pancakes, Alfred?”

The butler grinned, knowing it was likely the smell that had brought the man out in the first place.  “Indeed, sir.”

Bruce sat quickly at the table, ready to dig in, when his son came down and nodded hello to them both.

“What is for breakfast?” Damian asked as he sat.

His father smirked back at him for the unusually polite question.  “I’m surprised you didn’t deduce the answer from the aromas.  Did you wake up with a cold again?”

The boy frowned back.  “Is it not polite to ask?”

“Polite?” Bruce chuckled.  “Certainly.  You?  Not so much.”

Alfred shared a quick glance with his elder charge before turning to the younger.  “We are having Belgian waffles and pancakes.  Both with chocolate chips.  And I have fresh fruit ready, as well.”

Damian glanced over the fruit that was out.  “There are no apples.  Why is that?”

“That would be due to the… tastes of our guest,” Bruce replied.  “As I stated before, food allergies are  _not_  to be trifled with.”

The boy’s lips pursed.  “Quite.”  There was a brief moment of pause, then he began to pile food onto his plate.

They all ate quietly for a moment, Bruce and Alfred exchanging a glance and wondering what was keeping the fourth resident from coming down.  No sooner had the thought crossed their minds than Danny stumbled into the room, rubbing at his eyes, hair still ruffled from sleep.  He wobbled to the table, practically falling into a chair while completely ignoring the rest.  The teen folded his arms on the table, head dropping onto them.

Damian’s brow raised at the spectacle.  “It would appear,” he scoffed, “that he is still tired.”

Bruce sighed, poking at his food a bit as he went over what he’d seen last night.  “He had another… rough night….”

“So it would seem.”

Sniffling interrupted them, muffled from the teen, but as his head popped up, the rest realized he had just caught scent of the food before him.  Bleary blue eyes gazed at the food for a second before he dragged a plate of waffles towards himself and dug in, eyelids dropping back to half-mast, still entirely out of it.

“So… Damian.  Sleep well?” Bruce tried, hoping to get the boy distracted before he could start something.

“Decently.”  Damian was too caught up in watching the other male eat, eyes glued to him like he was a car crash on the highway.  “Apparently better than him.”

Alfred bowed slightly beside Danny, speaking softly.  “Good morning, Master Danny.”

The teen blinked blearily at the butler, nodded, and went right back to eating.

Damian scoffed once more.  “How  _polite_ ,” he sneered.

Bruce rolled his eyes, about to reproach the child, but stopped when he noticed the teen across from him pause for a moment in his eating, eyes clearing some, as he stared down at his plate.  “…Something wrong?” the billionaire asked.

There was a long pause, during which the other three were honestly thinking they’d not get any response, before the teen shook his head and tucked back into his meal.

“…I certainly hope he enjoys the food,” Alfred murmured.

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle at the voracity Danny had.  “Either that, or he’s preparing for an eating contest.”

Damian quickly finished his own meal and got up to leave.  “I plan on heading out today, Father.  Drake has… offered to bring me along with him when he goes to hang out with his… friends.”  The boy barely contained his contempt for both the named and his associates.

“…Just what do you mean by ‘offered’, Master Damian?”

The boy’s father didn’t buy it for a minute.  “He’s not aware of this ‘offer’ yet, is he?”

Damian shrugged, not letting a single emotion show to give himself away one way or the other.  “Call him and see.”

For another moment, father and son stared each other down, trying to see who would give first.  Finally, Bruce sighed.  “No matter.  I’ll know soon enough either way.  Just… don’t be out  _too_  late.”

“Of course, Father,” the boy replied, then turned and left.

Bruce shook his head, turning back to his other charge.  “So, Daniel, would you like to see the dogs again?”

But the teen was once more completely consumed and ignoring anything outside of food.

“…I’ll be in the study, Alfred,” Bruce muttered, deciding to simply let the boy have the space he seemed to want.

“Very well, sir.”

Bruce left, and Danny finally finished his own food, taking his dishes out into the kitchen.  Alfred followed, knowing the teen still had those cuts on his hands and hoping to keep him from gaining any further injuries.  Danny was very methodical this time as he washed, taking care to go slow and avoid being too rough.

Alfred couldn’t help but try once more to get through to the teen.  “Did you enjoy the food, sir?”

Danny simply nodded, not even pausing in his chore.

The butler smiled, regardless.  “I’m glad.  I’ll leave you to it, then.  Give a shout if you need anything.”

He was almost out the door when he heard a soft, “…Thanks.”

Alfred turned, bowed, and continued out the doorway.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Bruce next saw the teen when he took a short break from his paperwork to give the dogs some exercise.  As he came up to their yard, he noticed Danny squatting at the fence, petting the dogs and slipping them some meat scraps.  A faint grin flashed across Bruce’s face as he remembered Damian doing the same thing when he first found out about the dogs.  As much as the two might argue, it seemed they did have quite a bit in common.  “Feeling better, Danny?” he called.

The teen shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on the dogs and not pausing in his petting.

A few long strides brought the billionaire next to the teen.  “I think they like you.”

Once more, a shrug met him.  “Told you, animals like me.”

Bruce chuckled.  “You did, indeed.  I must say, though, it’s certainly interesting to see it in person.  Most animals are friendly, but… I’ve not seen these dogs act so… friendly around a stranger for some time.  At least, not without a more… lengthy introduction.”   _Or that stranger being Damian,_  he added mentally.   _Kid has a special hold on animals._

Danny completely ignored him, continuing to pet the dogs.

Another moment passed as Bruce studied him, trying to determine what the next move should be.  Remembering the language Damian had overheard the previous night, he decided to start there.  “So, how are you with languages?”

The teen shrugged again.  “Took a year of German.”

_Smart kid,_  Bruce realized,  _hiding a lie by stating a different truth._   “Ah.   _Sehr gut._   Any others?”

“Just that.”  Danny seemed to tense just slightly, though it came across as annoyance rather than avoidance or nerves.  “Why?”

“Forgive me,” Bruce quickly demurred.  “One of my… qualities, for better or worse, is a fairly insatiable curiosity.”  He lowered his eyes, focusing at the edge of his vision on the teen.  “ _Pardonu min._ ”

“No problem.”

There was no change in the teen to even hint that he’d noticed the language change.  Either he’d misheard, or he was entirely fluent.

“…I’ll be in the house,” Bruce excused himself, heading back to the study and nodding a greeting to Alfred.

“Ah, Master Wayne.  How is our guest?” Alfred asked.

“Still out of it,” he replied.  “I showed my hand a bit, but got no response.”

“…I see.”  Both ruminated for a moment on the possible ramifications, but neither could seem to come to a concrete conclusion.  Finally, Alfred simply changed the topic.  “So, what would you like for lunch?”

Bruce blinked, pulled from his thoughts.  “Oh, hmm… maybe a little… tropical twist on an old favorite?”

Alfred nodded.  “Very good, sir.”  He started towards the door, ready to begin work on the meal.

“There might be one more, Alfred.”

The butler paused in the doorway, turning back.  “Oh?  Will Miss Ouwa be taking Master Damian’s place?”

“I believe so.”  Bruce had a hunch they’d be getting another visit, if not today, then soon.

“I’ll set out a fourth place, sir.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

It was a couple hours later when Bruce returned to the kitchen, seeing Alfred finishing up their lunch.  “Slaving away as always?” he called in greeting.

“You know it’s never  _slaving_  to me, sir,” Alfred answered as he pulled a pizza stone from the oven.  “Do you think our young guest will like this choice of menu?”

Bruce chuckled.  “Seems he’ll eat just about  _anything_ , but—”  He heard some shuffling from upstairs and smirked at Alfred.  “We’ll see soon enough.”

Sure enough, Danny came into the room shortly, frowning upon seeing the fourth setting.  “…The brat’s getting back for lunch?” he grumbled.

“Honestly?” Bruce replied.  “I never know.  I’d rather be prepared unnecessarily than… well, the alternative.”  If things went poorly between him and Tim, Damian would be more likely to head to Dick’s, anyway, but Danny didn’t really need to know that.

The teen’s frown deepened.  “He’s only ten, right?” he asked.  “And you let him just go off on his own like that?”

“With Tim?  Certainly.”  Bruce had to restrain himself from smirking as he added, “Of course, he isn’t  _completely_  defenseless.”   _More like a one-child army at times,_  he thought.

Danny’s eyes seemed to narrow at the comment, and he was about to question it when the doorbell rang.

Alfred quickly excused himself to answer the door and came back shortly with Amika in tow.

“I hope you don’t mind—” she was saying as they entered.

“Not at all!” Bruce replied.  “You must join us for lunch.”

“Oh, I don’t want to cause you more trouble—”

Bruce shot a faux stern glance her way while Danny sunk into a chair and dropped his chin onto his folded arms.  “Ms. Ouwa, please.  If it  _were_  any trouble, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Right,” she realized, before turning towards the teen.  “Hello, Danny.”

He blinked, glancing up at her.  “Hi.”

“Oh, my mistake,” Alfred stated, uncovering the food before them.  “You shouldn’t have to wait for any of us, sir.  Dig in!”

As soon as his eyes landed on the ham and pineapple pizzas before him, Danny’s eyes narrowed again.  Bruce was just about to ask why when Amika exclaimed, “Oh!  Danny, they made your favorite!”

“I did?” Alfred verified.  “Splendid!  Certainly better than my first attempt.”

Amika had a large grin spreading across her face.  “Yes, Danny absolutely  _loves_  Hawaiian pizza!”  She brought a finger to her chin, dredging up some more facts about the boy.  “In fact, he also likes waffles with chocolate chips….”

Danny rolled his eyes but grabbed a slice of pizza and began eating.

Alfred was nearly overjoyed.  “Really?  Two in one day?”  Yes, this would  _definitely_  work towards making up for giving him apples the first morning.

A mischievous twinkle started up in Amika’s eyes.  “Gee, should I tell you his favorite dinner so you can go for a trifecta?”

The teen scowled, grabbing his second slice.

“I would  _certainly_  appreciate any insight you could give,” Alfred replied.

“Well, he’s a big fan of stir fry—”

The teen dropped two more slices onto his plate, then left with them.

Alfred and Bruce watched him go, equal parts concerned and suspicious.  “…Touchy subject?” the billionaire wondered.

“No,” Amika replied, a sad grimace washing over her features, “I just may have pushed a bit too far.”

“Oh?  How so?”

She sighed, then explained, “I don’t think he wanted you to know that  _any_ of that was his favorite.  He tends to do that sort of thing so he can find it easier to distance himself from his foster parents.”

“…I see,” Bruce mumbled.  “Well, it’s certainly not uncalled for.”  Especially given some of the families the boy had stayed with and their… illicit activities.

“No, it’s just a bit rude, though,” Amika huffed.

“Rude, yes.  However, I think I understand his perspective fairly well….”

“I suppose.  Well,” she said, standing, “I guess I’ve done enough damage for one day, so I’ll just be—”

“Nonsense!” the butler denied.

“Indeed,” Bruce continued, “you just got here.  Have a slice or two.”  He smirked slightly.  “It’s no trouble, really.”

Once more, Amika had to conceal a blush from the playboy’s attention.  “Well… alright,” she agreed, “if you’re sure.”  She sat and picked up her own slice of pizza.  “I’m sorry to cause all this trouble, though.”

“Please, Amika,” Bruce interrupted.  “I won’t deny this sort of thing isn’t… difficult at times, but you’re being too hard on yourself.”

This time, she couldn’t hide her blush.  “I… suppose I can be.  Are there any questions you had for me about Danny?”

“Not specifically,” the billionaire admitted.  “Do you have any for me?”

She thought through her usual list of questions quickly.  “Has he been acting up like this often?”

“Mm… not too often.”  And even then, it was usually due to some run-in with Damian.

“Okay.”  Amika pulled out her notepad once more and jotted that down.  “And there have been no more… unusual instances with him?”

Bruce blinked.  “Come again?”

She nibbled for a moment on her lip, debating how best to explain.  “Well, his previous foster parents have often reported him doing some… unusual things.  I know more than a few families mentioned they found him sleeping on their roof instead of in his bed….”

The billionaire and the butler shared a look.  “Could you… give some more examples of such behavior?” Bruce asked.  “I understand there’s his privacy to be concerned with, but… I’d also like to know what may transpire within my walls.”

“Hmm.”  Amika flipped back through her pad for a moment, briefly rereading previous notes.  “There were a few accounts of him just disappearing for hours at a time, one person told me that his room was completely iced over one morning, and several of the foster parents—” she blinked, realizing, “oh, well, that’s not really so unusual, but they said he skipped school unless they really enforced him going, and sometimes he’d vanish even then.”  She frowned.  “Not that most of them  _actually_ enforced him going….”

Bruce thought over the list.  The disappearing was easily explained, even the sleeping on the roof could be brushed over, but icing over an entire room… that merited some suspicion.  Still, he wanted to verify that these were due to a lack of attention and not some darker meaning.  “Is there any reason to believe these are anything more than results from… less than attentive caregivers?”

“I suppose not,” Amika admitted.  “Though, that reminds me, what do you plan to do for Danny’s schooling?”

Honestly, Bruce had yet to think of that, though he’d likely go for the same options available to Damian, who really should get started with a more… formal lesson plan, as well.  “Well, I suppose we could try home schooling.”

Amika brought a finger to her chin again.  “That depends, I’d have to go over your lesson plan, and Danny hasn’t exactly reacted well to previous attempts at home schooling.”  She gave a wry smile.  “But, then, he doesn’t seem interested in school  _at all._ ”

Bruce smiled back.  “Oh, I don’t have a… conventional lesson plan.  I’m more of a learn-as-you-go type of tutor.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I would have to require a lesson plan, unless you put him into a public or private high school.”

“I understand.”  He could probably throw something together week to week.  “How detailed would this plan need to be?”

“I would require a month’s plan at a time.”

Given how quickly Damian seemed to pick things up and how opposed Danny likely was to any type of classes, that’d be difficult to judge so far out.  “I see.  Well, I just thought it might be a nice… alternative, given Danny’s apparent… aversion to traditional schooling.  Any thoughts as to how we tackle that hill?”

Amika shrugged.  “I wouldn’t be opposed to tutoring in the home, but you would need to find a way to encourage him to actually  _attend_ …”

“I can certainly  _attempt_  to, but… given your synopsis, I think it would be pertinent to not promise anything.”

Another wry grin.  “I understand.  Well, in any case, I wish you luck in that.”

Bruce smirked.  “Thank you, Amika.”  Then, he remembered the newspaper articles he’d found the other day.  “Actually, now that I think about it… there  _is_  something I’d like to discuss….”

“Oh?” Amika asked, curious.  “What might that be?”

“…The event that started his journey here.”

“Ah.”  Amika’s face fell a bit, eyes darkening at the reminder.  “You looked it up, then, I assume?”

“Yes.  As I said, I respect privacy, but… only to a point.”

She sighed, seeming resigned to the topic.  “What about it would you like to discuss?”

“As much as you can,” Bruce replied, the detective in him hoping to fill in the holes in his knowledge.  “It seems as though that may have been the… catalyst for some of his behavior, so it would be good if I had some more information as to his background.”

Another sigh.  “I suppose it’s only natural that you’d be curious….”  She nodded to herself.  “Alright, I guess I should start at the beginning.”

“Please.”

She took a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath.  “What you have to realize, and what most people don’t, is that ghosts are  _real_ ,” she began.  “Amity Park was constantly plagued by them, and, as such, every citizen believed in them.”

Bruce gave a small smile.  “Well, that’s the difference between belief and knowledge.”  Quite a bit like the Batman legend - those outside Gotham still sometimes thought it was all made up.

“I suppose.  Anyway, there came a man to the town one day who looked down on those who believed in the paranormal.  He… saw himself as above all others, almost god-like.  When he realized that everyone in the town believed in ghosts, he… he decided they did not deserve to live.”

The billionaire’s smile dropped.  He’d assumed it was something along those lines, but to hear it stated so plainly….  “…I see.”

“He targeted the town ghost hunters first.”  Amika’s voice was fading, obviously caught up in the memories.  “After that, he took out the high school, then went back for the hunters’ children, for Danny and his sister, burning down their house.  It was after that that he was found dead.  The town still doesn’t know who killed him.”

Even after having read the basics, hearing it broken down like that still stunned the two men.  For a long moment, both were silent, sharing a sad glance as it brought up the memories of Thomas and Martha Wayne.  Finally, Bruce murmured, “I suppose that explains the marks….”

“Excuse me?” Amika gaped, shocked that the man even knew about them.  Danny had taken to wearing long sleeves and growing his hair out some to cover his burns and scars.

“He came down one morning sans shirt,” Alfred explained.  “He was toweling off his hair, likely had come straight from the shower to breakfast.”

“I see.  But yes, Danny received his burns and scars from that… incident,” Amika admitted.  “He spent about an hour in the fire, trying to pull his sister out.”

“And the scar over his eye?”

Amika nearly got whiplash turning to Bruce.  “What about it?”

“…Was it from the fire or from afterward?”

The woman blinked at him in shock.  “After—?”  She gasped, hands flying to her mouth.  “You think  _he—?_   You  _can’t_  be insinuating that—that  _Danny_ killed him?!”

“I prefer to leave no stone unturned.”

Amika’s lips thinned to a barely-visible line.  “In any case,” she bit out, “it’s still a  _very_  sore spot for Danny, so please, try not to bring it up around him.”

Bruce nodded.  “I understand.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, obviously relieved.  “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

He could think of only one other question that, for all his research, he’d been unable to find the answer for.  “Yes, there is.  The name of this… character?”

“Seth Krios,” Amika answered, sounding drained from the topic.  “But he called himself Zeus.”

Bruce’s eyes lowered, thinking it over and already planning to look up everything he could find on the man.  “…Fitting, given his… obvious feelings toward others.”

That appeared to be Amika’s breaking point.  “Yes, well, ‘fitting’ as it may be, you’ll find it strikes a  _different_  feeling in the hearts of the Amity Parkers,” she spat waspishly.

The billionaire sighed, knowing he’d pushed a bit too far.  “As well it should.  It seems every era has its own… Hitler.”

“So it would seem.”  The social worker stood, hands pressed hard into the table.  “Well, I believe I really should be going now.”

Bruce rose, as well.  “If you insist.  I hope I did not offend you in any way.”

Amika sighed.  “No, Mr. Wayne, you did not.  It just seems I’m still a bit… rattled over that whole fiasco.”

“Of course,” he agreed.  “Completely understandable.  Well, please remember that this door is  _always_  open to you.”

She bowed slightly.  “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.  I suppose I’ll be seeing you again, then.”  And with that, she quickly left, Alfred seeing her out the door.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

It was agreed that Alfred would be the one to broach the school topic with Danny as the teen seemed a bit more amiable towards the Brit than the billionaire.  As such, he soon found himself knocking on Danny’s door, listening as the muffled voices (and who could the teen be speaking to?) suddenly silenced.

_“What?”_

“A moment of your time, sir,” Alfred called, “if you don’t mind.”

There was a moment’s pause, then,  _“…It’s open.”_

Alfred pushed the door open slowly, stepping in just a bit.  “Something has… come up, and I believe it would be best if you discussed this with Master Bruce.”

The teen was standing beside his bed, arms crossed and computer closed in front of him.  “ _What_  came up?” he demanded.

“Nothing personal, just… well, Miss Ouwa is concerned about your education.”

Danny rolled his eyes, turning and flopping down onto his bed.  “Tell him I’m not going.”

Alfred’s nose wrinkled very slightly.  “I  _could_  tell him that, sir, but… honestly, what good would it do?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Danny huffed.  “I’ve not been to school in two years, and nothing’s happened.”

“Be that as it may, this is something that Master Wayne’s rather… immovable on.  Your agent seems no less pliable concerning this topic, either….”

“Well, they’ll just have to  _learn_  to move, won’t they?” Danny snarled.

Alfred sighed.  “Master Fenton,  _please_  try and understand me.  I  _truly_ wish we could accommodate such a request, but… well, this is the way it has to be, I’m afraid.”

The teen’s eyes narrowed.  “And  _I’m_  afraid that I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request.  You can enroll me in all the schools you want, doesn’t mean I’ll go.”

Once more, the butler huffed out a sigh.  “If I may offer some… perspective, sir.  More my own than anything else.  If you… refuse to accept the issue, then I’m afraid you’ll be forced to relocate.  As I said, Master Bruce is unwavering when it comes to learning, and it doesn’t seem as though Miss Ouwa will ever let this down, either.  They aren’t looking for your  _enjoyment_  so much as your  _acceptance_  of it.  However, should you choose to accept their… position, there may be other ways to… augment whatever conventional teachings you receive.”

But Danny had stopped listening as soon as he heard the word “relocate”.  Instead, he had stood back up and grabbed his bags, throwing the few items he’d unpacked back in.  “Fine.  Call up Ouwa, let her know she needs to find another house for me—”

Alfred lightly laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder, pushing gently to turn him away from his task.  “As I said, sir.  There are… other ways of learning than that which is generally accepted.”

Danny blinked for a moment, then shot a suspicious glance over at the butler.  “What do you mean?”

“You enjoy animals, correct?”

That didn’t exactly reassure Danny.  “Yeah… why?”

Alfred raised a hand, using the other to adjust the cufflink.  A moment later, a bat flew through the doorway.

It flit around for a moment, then landed on the headboard.  “…You… have a bat,” Danny gaped.

A second flew in, perching right next to the first.

One of the teen’s eyebrows shot up at that as he turned to Alfred.  “How many of these do you _have?_ ”

“…A few.”

Danny didn’t buy that.  “And when you say a few…?”

Alfred hesitated slightly before deciding to use it for his cause.  “Let’s just say I can answer that more fully  _if_  and  _when_  you accept the terms of the two aforementioned persons.”

“So this is a bribe, then.”  Danny sat beside the bats, and when neither moved, he reached out to pet the closer one.  “I go to school and you tell me about your pets?”

“…In a manner of speaking, yes.”  Alfred really would need to talk it over with Bruce, but he was sure his charge was thinking of something along those lines to begin with.

“…And all I need to do is go?” Danny verified.

“Attend, and at least  _try_  your best in your courses at the school.  That way, Miss Ouwa is appeased.  In your free time, which, if I’m not mistaken, would be  _ample_ , Master Wayne and I can help you learn more… unorthodox subjects.”  Heaven knows Bruce would probably load the boy with case files to study and begin a rigorous training regimen, though likely in the upstairs gym rather than the downstairs.

“Such as?”

Alfred couldn’t help a smile.  The teen certainly made sure to cover his bases and get all the information up front.  Bruce would definitely appreciate that.  “Please do not misunderstand me, sir.  I would be  _happy_ to oblige, but… would you mind taking care of the more… official matter first?”

Danny was still stroking the bat as he thought that over, then he finally stood, gracefully enough that the bats went undisturbed.  “Fine.”

The butler nodded.  “Thank you, sir.  I hope you understand.  We would be  _more_  than happy to begin your… lessons, but first I think it’d be pertinent to appease Miss Ouwa and get yourself enrolled and back in a good academic standing.”

Danny paused just before the door, glancing back at Alfred.  “…You never answered what kind of lessons,” he reminded.

“That’s correct.  I did not.”

An eyebrow quirked up.  “So?”

“As I said, I can give you more detail once we’ve gotten past the present obstacle.”

Danny shook his head.  “Not good enough.  I wanna know if it’s worth it.”

Alfred sighed.  “Very well.  Do you know why those bats are in here?”

“As a way to make me agree to going to school?” Danny drawled.

“…Indirectly, yes.  I’m talking about a more physical reason.”

Danny thought it over.  “You called them here.”

A grin met his answer.  “Precisely.”

“Why?  How?”

Alfred removed his cufflink, handing it to the teen.  “Voilà.”

Danny glanced over it, easily recognizing the electronics inside due to years of exposure to both his parents’ and his best friend’s technology.  “An echolocation device?”

“Exactly.”

He looked back at Alfred.  “Okay, why?”

The butler smirked.  “Why not?”

Danny stared for a moment, then rolled his eyes when he received no further explanation.  He handed back the device, which Alfred hooked back in place.  “Still doesn’t really answer  _why_  I’d wanna take these ‘lessons’.”

“You’ll learn about this device and likely others we have on the premises, along with some advanced material that Master Wayne wishes to go over.  Of course, this all depends on you attending and doing well in school.”

“…Define well,” Danny grumbled, remembering his poor grades from Casper High and realizing that sort of slacking off would probably not cut it in the Wayne household.

“You seem to be a rather intelligent young man,” Alfred stated.  “I’m sure a 3.0 would not be too difficult, though Master Wayne may wish it to be closer to a 4.0, depending on the grade in which you would be placed and courses you would take.”

Once more, Danny debated for a long moment before huffing out a, “Fine,” and heading back downstairs.  Alfred trailed behind him to ensure he actually found Bruce and agreed to the terms.

Sure enough, the two happened upon Bruce in the study.  He glanced up from the book he was reading to greet them.  “Afternoon, Daniel.  I hope we weren’t disturbing you.”

The name seemed to make the teen twitch.  “Danny,” he corrected.

“Very well.  Danny.”

The boy pursed his lips, then simply blurted, “Alfred mentioned school.”

Bruce grinned slightly.  “Ah, yes.  As you probably know by now, Amika is… rather concerned about your education.  It’s something I, too, find to be important to someone’s experience.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

The billionaire realized Alfred had likely hashed all this out already.  “So, what have you decided?”

A brief glance back at Alfred seemed to steel the boy in his decision.  “…Guess I’m going to school.”

To be sure, Bruce offered him an out.  “You’re sure?  Just to be safe, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.  We could bring in a private tutor.”

Danny shrugged.  “It’s fine.  I’ll go.”

“Okay, if that’s your choice.”  Bruce gestured to the phone on his desk.  “Shall I inform Amika, or would you rather do so yourself?”

Once more, the teen just shrugged.  “Go ahead.  I’m goin’ back to my room.”

“Alright.”

Just before the teen left, Alfred managed to catch the time.  “Oh, my!  I must get dinner going!”  He turned toward the kitchen, but paused, asking Danny, “Would you prefer stir fry or something else, sir?”

The teen bit his lip, thinking hard, then finally mumbled, “…Stir fry’s fine,” and rushed back out.

Alfred glanced to Bruce.  “Should I—?”

“Go ahead, Alfred.  It seems he’s at least warmed up to  _you_.”

The elder man nodded.  “Very well, sir.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**


	6. Chapter 6

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Knowledge is power.  Intelligence is liberating.  Education is the premise of progress, in every society, in every family._ **

Alfred was cooking dinner when Bruce came in, an eyebrow raised as he watched the older man frown, nearly scowling at his ingredients.

“Unsure of yourself, old friend?” the billionaire asked.

Alfred glanced over, frown deepening slightly, more annoyed at Bruce than frustrated at his progress.  “Nonsense.  I know my way around a kitchen.”  He sighed.  “It’s just… this specific combination of cooking style and ingredients—”

“Isn’t in your normal repertoire,” Bruce cut in.  “I know.”

“Exactly, sir.”

Bruce grinned.  “Still, I think our new resident has a rather… eclectic appetite.”

Once more, a scowl was directed at the in-process meal.  “Indeed, sir.”

Damian walked in then, grumbling, “You are once again speaking of that child?”

His father’s eyes narrowed at the slight.  “Damian, he’s quite a few years older than you.  If  _he_  is a ‘child,’ then what, exactly, does that make  _you?_ ”

Alfred chuckled at the thought, finishing his last-minute additions to the meal as Damian huffed and sat.  The butler turned and began setting out the dishes.  “So,” he asked of the youngest, “how is Master Drake?”

Damian gave a slightly confused look.  “He is healthy.  Why do you ask?”

The butler nearly laughed.  “No reason.”

Bruce sighed.  “Damian, we aren’t concerned with his  _health_  as much as how he’s been lately.”

“He has been well.”

There was silence for a moment before Bruce realized that was all Damian had to offer on the matter.  “…That’s nice.  So, what’s your day been like?”

“It has been fine.”

A brow raised at the lack of details.  “Do anything fun?” Bruce prompted.

“Drake showed me Mount Justice.”

Now the other brow joined it, morphing from exasperation to mild surprise—mostly that so far, it sounded like no blood was shed between the two often-feuding adoptive brothers.  “Really?  What did you think?”

“It was interesting to see their headquarters.  Though a defunct hideout seems an odd choice to hide the League’s sidekicks.”

Bruce ignored the obvious dig and instead specified, “I was referring to your opinion of the… equipment.”

Damian blinked.  “It was equipment given to them by you, Father.  I have already seen the more advanced versions here.”

“True,” Bruce admitted, “but how do you think you’d handle the older versions?”

“Well enough, primitive though they are,” Damian replied with an eye roll, annoyed his father would doubt his abilities.

Bruce smiled, thinking back over the days when that technology was new.  “That  _would_  prove how… resourceful one is.  Whether you’re talking weapons or other instruments, I think it’s quite an accomplishment if someone can break out of the relative comfort of today’s technology.”

Alfred hid a grin from the two, bowing out with an explanation of, “I believe I’ll go fetch our guest.”  He moved out into the hallway and was turning to the stairs, calling out, “Master Fento—”

The teen in question backed up a step, barely avoiding a collision with the butler.  “…Alfred.”

The Brit reddened, startled that he’d been so unaware of the boy and realizing such a thing hadn’t happened in the mansion for years.  “Ah, sir.  Dinner is ready.”

Danny nodded back.  “I know.”  Then he brushed past, heading for the kitchen.

Alfred shook his head, staring after the boy, thinking back over the last times one of the Batfamily managed to sneak up on him.  “Uncanny….”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

By the time Alfred got back to the kitchen, Danny was already digging into the food with gusto while Damian scowled at the sheer amount of food on the other’s plate.  “Would you care to save some for the rest of us?” the boy demanded.

“Nope,” Danny replied with a slight smirk.

Bruce chuckled.  “You asked, Damian.”

The boy’s scowl just deepened as Dann continued happily munching on his stir fry.  Alfred smiled at the two.  “I’m glad you like the food, sir.  I must say, this is not something I usually whip up, so I was… apprehensive as to how it would turn out.”

Danny gave the butler a thumbs up, barely even pausing in shoveling more food into his mouth.

The Brit smiled at the teen’s antics while Bruce chuckled, spooning some onto his own plate.  “I hope you made enough, Alfred.”

Alfred looked over the supplies, a slight frown forming as he realized it was more than half gone already.  “…You may have a point there….”  When he noticed that the teen had slowed with a slightly worried stare, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, Master Fenton.  I believe I have a sufficient stock, and it doesn’t take long to make.  Eat your fill, please.”

The teen finished off his plate quickly, then stood and took it to the sink.  Damian scowled once more after the teen, biting out, “Why is he doing  _your_  job, Pennyworth?”

Alfred couldn’t help but scowl slightly back.  The boy might be doing a bit better, but it seemed Danny brought out the worst in him.  “Why, if he wants to help out, who am I to stop him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with lending a hand, Damian,” Bruce added.

Pennyworth sighed.  “Finding someone with such manners is becoming more and more rare these days.”

“But he is—!”

“Gonna go to bed,” Danny muttered after finishing his dishes and heading for the stairs.

The other three blinked after the teen, who was already out of the room.  “Very well,” Alfred called.  “Sweet dreams, Master Daniel.”

“See you in the morning,” Bruce added.

Damian cast a confused glance towards his father.  “Why does he retire to bed so early?”

Bruce thought that over.  “He might be on a different schedule.”

“How so?” the boy asked, frowning.  “He has not changed time zones.”

The billionaire sighed.  “I meant  _sleeping_  schedule, Damian.  Some people do routine things at different times of day than others.  How else would cities such as ours operate all day?”

The boy’s brow furrowed.  “But, when he goes back to his room for ‘bed’, he does not sleep.”

Now, Bruce shrugged.  “So he enjoys his privacy.  Can’t say that I blame him.”

Damian tapped on the table, resting his chin in a hand as he thought over the teen’s actions.  “He usually is speaking in that odd language to someone.”

“That may be.  However, I believe it would be… immature to jump on that too soon.”

“Indeed,” Alfred added.  “Master Fenton is allowed his secrets as much as the rest of us.”

Damian gave the two a confused frown.  “But you said he may be in danger.”

Bruce’s brow jumped up at that.  “So, you believe in ghosts now?”

The boy’s lips pursed.  “As you said, no danger should be taken lightly.”  Under his breath, he huffed, “Regardless of how impossible it may seem.”

“Too true.”  Bruce gave his son a stern look.  “However, we have to be sure he  _wants_  our help.  If there’s one thing I know, help that’s unwanted doesn’t do  _anyone_  any good.”

“…I see,” the boy mumbled, looking down.  He was obviously thinking through everything he’d learned of the teen so far.

Bruce decided he should be a bit more specific, seeing that Damian was actually listening for once.  “Whether you’re dealing with a single individual with an addiction—be it cocaine, alcohol, or what-have-you—or the general public at large, ‘helping’ when you’re not wanted can be counter-productive… at best.  As long as Danny resides here, he will be… monitored.  However, barring something  _extremely_  serious, he will be left to his own devices.  It should be  _his_  decision if and when to divulge information to anyone.”

Damian actually seemed to think that over.  “I suppose so.  Still, it is… unnerving to hear them converse, especially when knowing they are talking of that Krios person.”

“Well, he  _was_  part of a very… significant event in the area.  Persons with that kind of… fame are difficult to forget, especially to anyone who was in the vicinity of such an occurrence.”

The boy chewed at his lip for a moment, something he’d picked up from Grayson, as he pondered that.  “But… if he was the one who… did that, why would he speak so much of him?  Would he not avoid speaking of such things?”

That was surprisingly thoughtful of the boy.  “Not necessarily,” Bruce replied.  “Even if this were a more… conventional situation, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for certain people to talk about such an individual for some time to come.  Events such as these are often seared into the memory, such that reminiscing can occur even decades later.”

Damian glanced away, feeling a bit uncomfortable now at the depth of the conversation, and added, “Still, I feel that these late-night talks are important in some way.”

Bruce sighed.  “If you think you can investigate  _quietly_ , then do so.  However, you must realize that if Danny finds out about your… snooping and reacts accordingly, I may not necessarily take your side.  If you think you can handle whatever consequences arise, get to it.”

Damian nodded.  “I will.”  He went quiet for a long moment, then asked, “Will there be any times when he will be off the manor grounds?”

And there went any thought of the boy’s emotional growth.  “Perhaps,” Bruce responded, “but that is immaterial.  I will  _not_  allow any unauthorized entry into his quarters.”

But all the boy seemed to catch was that the teen would be gone.  “Why?  Where will he be going?”

Bruce fixed his gaze on the boy.  “To school, of course.  Come to think of it, I think it’s time  _you_  attended as well.”  Sure, the boy had gone for a time while Grayson was watching him, but after Bruce came back, he had been pulled out to adjust to the change in home and (however slightly) lifestyle.  It was about time to get him back.

“I do not need to attend such trivial things.”

Well, that answered what he thought of his time at school….

“Oh, contraire,” Bruce quickly retorted.  “I believe it to be  _critical_  to have attained at least  _some_  level of academic understanding.”  Realizing that approach was getting him nowhere, he switched tactics.  “Besides, if you attend the same school as your… subject, you’ll be able to observe him in a plethora of environments.  The more angles you can achieve, the better.”

The boy put on an affronted air, but Bruce could tell he was intrigued.  “…Fine.”

Bruce nodded.  “Now that that’s settled, perhaps you should get some shut-eye of your own?”

The boy huffed.  “Tt.  It is only eight o’clock!  There are  _toddlers_  who stay up later!”

One of Bruce’s eyebrows jumped up at that.  “Then what would you propose as an alternative?”

“Perhaps some training?  Or patrol?”

Bruce sighed.  Once again, the boy was being single-minded.  He’d never allowed his boys to go out on school nights, even if they weren’t currently enrolled.  He wasn’t about to budge on that now.  “Patrolling is for the policemen.  What type of training did you have in mind?”

Damian thought only for a moment.  “Acrobatics?  Grayson was planning on coming by soon, I believe.”

The billionaire blinked.  “He was?  When did he speak with you?”

“On the phone a week ago.”

“I see.  Any idea when he’ll arrive?”  Of course, knowing Dick, he probably didn’t have much planned besides just turning up sometime.

“He was not sure.”

Yep, classic Dick.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny logged onto his computer, glancing around his room for any surveillance cameras and quickly covering them up before opening a chat window.  “Hey, Technus,” he said in Esperanto, knowing the audio would still be running even if the cameras weren’t, “anything you can tell me about how to shut down some security cameras?”

The ghost frowned at him through the screen.   _“What trouble are you in **now** , kiddo?”_

“Not much,” he replied.  “The new place comes with its own system, but I’d rather not be under big brother’s eye, y’know?”

_“Of course.  Are you plugged into their wifi?”_

Danny tapped a few keys, swapping from his computer’s personal server to the mansion’s.  “Am now.”

Technus smirked.   _“Then I’ll just see if I can’t hack you **out**  of their system.”_

The half-ghost grinned.  “Awesome.  Needless to say, it’s gotten a bit difficult to find places to change where there’s no cameras.”

Technus chuckled at him.   _“I’d bet.”_   He tapped away for a while at his own computer, then frowned.   _“There’s a second system here.”_

There was a long pause before Danny blinked at the ghost.  “…What?”

_“A second system,”_  Technus repeated.   _“One I can’t access, but seems redundant—no, it’s actually **more**  complex than the system you’re logged onto.”_

“Wait,” Danny interrupted.  “There’s two systems, and you can’t get into one of them?”  He frowned.  “What’s really going on in this house…?”

_“House?”_  Technus scoffed.   _“Kiddo, you’re in a **mansion!**   Wait until I tell Ember about this, she’ll—!”_

Danny scowled at him.  “She’ll try coming over here, and, frankly, I’m not dealing with any of that fallout.”

Thankfully, Technus let it drop.   _“Well, I’ve turned off as many cameras as I could access in your room, but there’s still a few in there.”_

“Can you tell me where?” Danny demanded, grabbing some old clothes to cover up anything he may have missed earlier.

_“Under the mirror, over your closet, and in the northeast corner.”_   Danny covered everything as it was mentioned.   _“That should be all of them, but there could be some currently turned off.  There’s bugs placed, too, by your bed and by the door.”_

“Great,” Danny sighed.  “Good thing we use Esperanto, huh?  Though for some reason, I think it might be safer to find a way to shut those off, too.”

_“I can’t,”_  Technus said regretfully.   _“They’re both on the secondary system.  I’ll work out some blueprints for you, though, if you’d like to build something to disable them.”_

“Thanks, Technus, that’d be great.”  The teen slumped onto his bed, relief flooding through him.  In all the houses he’d been stuck in, he’d never felt so claustrophobic, so trapped as he did in this mansion.

_“Alright, I’ll send them to you once you log off.  Anything else you wanted?”_

Thinking of what was coming up in the next few days, Danny mumbled, “…Can you tell me about the sites again?”

Technus sighed, knowing what the boy meant and dreading it.  _“You know you’re just gonna hurt more….”_

Danny clutched at his blankets, dragging a pillow into his lap and squeezing it.  “I  _need_  to hear it, Technus.”

The ghost knew this, knew that it was all he had left of his old obsession.   _“Okay.  Your parents’ site is next to your grandparents’.  They have a shared plot, and the stone is engraved ‘Mother, Father, Heroes.’  Your sister’s is beside theirs, and hers says ‘Loving Sister, Caring Friend.’  Tucker’s is in the same cemetery, at his own family’s plot, engraved simply ‘Shall Be Missed.’  Sam’s….”_   Technus huffed.  This was always the worst one, since Danny hadn’t even been allowed to attend the girl’s funeral.  _“I can’t, Danny.  I won’t keep doing this to you.”_

But Danny wouldn’t let him stop.  Nor did he seem to show any emotion, though Technus knew that was due to his ice powers freezing him over.  “Technus, just  _tell_  me.”

_“…She’s in a separate cemetery.  Her family paid for a large sculpture of an angel, and her stone reads ‘Here lies Samantha, Taken from us Too Soon, Cherished Forever.’”_

There was a long pause.

_“…Kiddo?”_  Technus called, worried that he’d finally gone too far.

“…Thanks,” the boy mumbled.

A knock came at his door.

Technus frowned.   _“What’s that?”_

Danny blinked.  “Ah….”  He glanced over at the clock, releasing his death grip on the pillow and his ice powers.  “That’d be Alfred coming to get me for breakfast, apparently.”

The technopath’s brow raised.   _“Alfred?  You’re actually on first-name basis with these ones?”_

Danny huffed.  “I don’t remember his last name.”

_“Why not?”_

“…It’s a mansion….”

_“…You have a **butler?!** ”_

_“Am I interrupting something, sir?”_  Alfred called through the door.

Danny switched to English, replying, “No, be right out!”  Then, muttered to Technus in Esperanto, “Guess we’ll have to chat again later.”

_“Keep yourself safe, and don’t dwell too much.  You know what happens to you if you slip up.”_

Danny sighed.  “I know.  I really don’t need to drop a few pounds now that I’m finally back to my normal weight….”

_“I’ll send those blueprints to you while you eat.”_

“Thanks again, Technus.  Talk to you later.”  Danny logged off, shut down his computer, and headed down to the kitchen, slightly surprised that Alfred hadn’t waited for him.

He wasn’t surprised, though, when the butler grinned at him with a cheerful, “Good morning, Master Fenton!”

Danny glanced over at him.  “…Hi.”

“Sleep well?”

The teen gave him a slight grin, knowing he hadn’t slept a wink.  “Yeah, sure.”

Apparently, the older man didn’t see through his deception, smiling back.  “Very good.  Master Wayne said not to wait for him.  Seems he got caught up in his study again.”  The butler chuckled to himself.  “He  _does_ tend to lose himself in his work….”

Danny frowned as the man set out plates.  “That reminds me.  I haven’t actually seen most of the place, have I…?”

Alfred blinked.  “Of course, sir.  If you wish, I can give you a tour after breakfast.”

The teen thought it over, then slowly nodded, remembering seeing the dogs before and vaguely hoping he could stop by them again.

“Splendid.”  Alfred bowed, then waved towards the table.  “Bon apetit!”

Danny sat and began spooning food onto his plate.

Damian wandered in a moment later, frowning a bit at seeing Danny but not Bruce.  He turned to Alfred, practically demanding, “Where is Father?”

“In the study, sir.”

The boy pursed his lips, glancing towards the study, but he sat and started to eat as well.

“I’ll leave you two to your meal,” Alfred stated.  “Should you need me, I’ll be in the library.”  He bowed once more, then left.

The boys glanced at each other, studying one another, then Danny stood and took his empty plate to the sink.

“…Why do you do that?” Damian asked.

Danny blinked, turning to Damian.  “Do what?”

The boy’s brow furrowed.  “You refuse to allow anyone else to touch your dishes.  Why?”

The half-ghost turned away again, shrugging as he washed his dishes.  “…You ever live in a place where you felt you couldn’t trust anyone else?”

Damian thought back.  While with the League of Shadows, he’d always fit in, and he grew up with them, so he’d always trusted them.  With Grayson, the man was too ridiculously well-meaning to distrust.  “…No.”

“Then you won’t get it.”

But the boy wouldn’t accept that answer and frowned.  “Why would I not get it?”

Danny stiffened slightly at the tone, but continued to methodically wash the plates.  “You just  _won’t_ ,” he bit out.

Damian huffed, crossing his arms.  “How would you know what I would or would not get if you do not tell me?”

The teen stiffened even more, clenching his hands.  “Just  _drop it_.”

Damian scowled.  “No.  Father and Pennyworth may be fine with allowing you to hold onto secrets while in our home, but  _I_  am  _not_.  What makes you so concerned over whom touches your dinnerware?”

Danny glared over at the boy, hands still hidden in the dish water.  “That’s none of your business!”

“It is when we are  _allowing_  you to stay in our  _home!_ ”

The teen spun, throwing his fist into the boy’s cheek.  Cold blue eyes watched Damian drop from shock alone as Danny hissed, “That’s exactly  _why_  you  _won’t get it_.”  He stalked off, stepping over the boy and passing by the library door.

Alfred looked up as he passed.  “Everything alright, sir?”

Danny didn’t even pause, growling back, “Peachy.”

Alfred blinked, but returned to his book, deciding to only interfere if there was some sign of injury or a call.  “As you wish….”

The teen had already stomped upstairs.

Then came a quiet call from the kitchen.  “…Alfred?”

Alfred sighed.  “Coming, sir.”  He set down his book and went to the kitchen, eyes widening when they fell on the boy on the floor, and he rushed over.  “What happened here?”

“He… caught me off guard.”

“I should say so,” Alfred retorted.  “How can I be of assistance?”

The boy sat up a little straighter, holding his cheek.  “…Why?”

Alfred’s brow furrowed.  “Sir?”

Damian glanced up at the butler, explaining, “I simply asked a question.  Why would he react so?”

The butler sighed.  “This may seem a bit… foreign to you, Master Damian, but… some people are very private.  Life can be… cruel at times, so people act accordingly.”

The young Wayne frowned.  “Mother was private, and life was cruel to her, but she never reacted like this unless we were in training.”

“…Did she  _never_  react thus toward  _anyone, ever?_ ”

“No….  Well, except to Father.”

Alfred hid a smirk at the admission.  “I see.  Well, some individuals feel thus toward… everyone, to be honest.  They react to life’s… treatment such that they develop a cocoon of sorts.”

Damian thought that over.  “…So, I disturbed some protective barrier for him?”  He frowned.  “How does one avoid such a barrier if they cannot tell where it lies?”

“Usually there are tells,” Alfred explained.  “From what I’ve gathered of Master Fenton, he may warn when one gets too close….”

The boy’s full attention was now locked on the butler.  “How would I recognize these warnings?”

“Well….”  Alfred took a moment to think over what he’d seen so far from the teen.  “It depends on the person’s vernacular….  Drop it, stop, any sort of desisting verbal command, stiffening… that sort of thing.  I suppose it might be like your mother when she was coiling up for an attack?”

Damian thought back over what happened a moment ago.  “…He did several of those things,” he realized.  He looked up again at Alfred, wondering, “Why did I not notice them?”

The Brit gave a light chuckle.  “In a word, sir?  Ignorance.  Nothing to be  _too_  ashamed of, though,” he added at the boy’s scowl.  “Honest mistake, I’m sure.  But,” he nodded at the red mark on the boy’s cheek, “one that, I think, you shall not make again?”

The boy glanced down, pensive.  “No, I don’t think I will.”  He stood, turning towards the door.  “You said Father was in the study?”

Alfred nodded.  “That is correct.”

“Thank you.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Bruce glanced up from the Crays as Damian entered.  “How was breakfast?”

The boy uncovered his cheek briefly to show the emerging bruise.  “Eventful.”

One of the billionaire’s brows arched up.  “I see.”

“But that is not why I came.  I heard him speaking that language again this morning.”

Bruce smirked.  “Did you, now?”

“Yes, but apparently you already know of this?”

“Indeed.  Apparently, our guest has a rather… resourceful ally.  Observe.”  Bruce played back the previous night’s footage, freezing a moment after the screens went blank.

Damian frowned deeply.  “How could anyone have hacked the mansion’s system?”

“It appears this… friend is able to integrate with electronics.  Luckily, I had the main network… shielded for just such an occasion.”

“Integrate…?” Damian echoed.  “How so?  And how will we keep him from repeating this?”

Bruce smirked.  “One, it appears this individual is from… the other side.  Two, I am upgrading the protection as we speak.”

Damian scowled.  “A ghost.”  He sighed, dropping that topic for the moment.  “How do you plan on watching him if he has covered the cameras?”

The billionaire’s smirk turned to a smile.  “I have ways.  One, he hasn’t found  _every_  recording item in the room.  Two, I have a way of transferring any item between systems if I so choose.”

“So, you will keep switching systems so this… ally will not be able to completely blind us?” Damian guessed.

“Oh, I think the chances are quite slim he’d be able to penetrate the Cavenet.  I never count anything out 100 percent,” he admitted, “but… I think the odds are certainly on our side.  And I may start integrating the shielding system on the manor’s network.”

Damian frowned.  “What shielding system?”

Bruce quickly brought up the specs.  “Take a look.”  He slid out of the way so Damian could move forward and read it over.

“…Ectoranium?” the boy questioned.  “What is that?”

“Are you familiar with what a magnet can do to a cell phone?”

“Yes.  This can do that to a ghost?”

Bruce shrugged.  “In a manner of speaking.  It may not  _harm_  them, but it  _does_  keep them out.”  He pulled up a simulation, explaining, “It’s something like bug spray in the first stage, then magnet in the second.  No harm done….”

“But will keep them away,” Damian finished.

“Correct.  Unless, of course, a warning isn’t enough.”

Damian glanced off to the side, then back to Bruce.  “…You mentioned schooling?”

For a moment, Bruce was caught off guard by the sudden topic change, especially given the boy’s earlier aversion to the idea.  Then, he smiled.  “I did, indeed.  You and Danny are to attend Brentwood Academy this term.  Tim is a senior there, so you will already have one friend there.”

Damian ignored the mention of Drake for the moment.  “When would we start?  And what sort of initiation must we perform before being allowed to attend?”

“I believe the first day of classes was sometime around September fourth.  You’ll start attending later this week.  As for any… initiation, there’s nothing required other than a simple placement exam.”

Damian’s lips pursed.  “And what do these exams require?  What would I need to practice or prepare?”

It took less than a moment for Bruce to realize his son was thinking of the League of Shadows’ “exams”, and he briefly wondered why the boy hadn’t had any placement testing when Dick had him enrolled.  “It’s not like  _those_  tests, Damian.  It’s most likely a simple written quiz.  They want to know what  _you_  know, individually, so they know what classes would best fit your educational needs.”

Damian nodded.  “So I must study up on the different subjects.”  He stroked his chin, thinking.  “I believe I am well-read on most already, but I will look back over weapons calibration to be safe—”

Bruce laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Son, we’re talking about  _high school_ , not SEAL training.  The ‘subjects’ are those such as chemistry, biology, algebra….”

“So, poisons, targeting…?”

The billionaire sighed, making a mental note to ask Dick exactly what kind of school the boy had previously attended.  “Okay, let’s try this.  Starting easy, what’s three times three?”

“Nine.”

“Cubed root of one hundred and twenty-five?”

“Five.”

“What is X if three-X minus four equals two?”

“X equals two.”  Damian frowned.  “Is this all the testing will be?”

“…Basically.”  Bruce decided to try a different subject.  “How about this?  What is tritium?”

“A radioactive isotope of hydrogen.”

“And the chemical formula for glucose?”

“C6H12O6.”

Bruce grinned, proud that his ex-assassin son apparently did have a decent education.  “Very nice.  Now, I’m not saying the questions will be  _exactly_ like this, but… it’s probably not too dissimilar.”

“And this will determine whether we are admitted or not?”

“No.”  Bruce took a moment to decide how best to explain.  “This will determine what classes you are matriculated in.  Different people have different… affinities.  Therefore, schools need to make sure they give each person as much as they can handle.”  He took another brief pause before settling on a couple examples.  “For instance, it’s possible that an eighteen-year-old may need special tutoring—due to a mental disability—whereas a nine-year-old may be able to take senior-level classes.  It doesn’t mean anyone’s necessarily ‘better,’ just that we all have our strengths.”

The boy nodded, asking, “And when will we be taking these exams?”

“Why, tomorrow.”

And he was back to frowning.  “That is… rather last minute, is it not?”

“Perhaps.  However, this sort of test isn’t exactly one that can be studied for beforehand.”

“I see.”  He glanced away for a moment, frowning.  “…Have you told Danny of this yet?”

“Indeed.  He was… apprehensive,” Bruce admitted, “but he’s come around.”

Damian’s head tilted to the side, curious.  “How did you convince him?”

“He was… offered a chance to attend more… unconventional classes if he acquiesced.”

The boy blinked at his father.  “You… plan to train him?”

Bruce shrugged.  “Why not?  He already seems quite… apt at certain skills.  And, barring anything  _serious_ , he may be staying here awhile, so….”

“Are you not concerned that he may be hurt?”  As if realizing that this question made him actually sound worried for the teen, he quickly added, “Or find out about your alter-ego?”

“First, I think he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.  Alfred can always supplement any aid needed.  Second, I think I told you before: secrets tend to get out sooner or later.  The trick is to control the leaking yourself.”

Damian’s lips pursed.  “I suppose.”

“So… anything else you wish to discuss?”

The boy thought a moment, then mumbled, “…Danny does not seem to like it here.”

Bruce’s brow arched.  “Very astute, Sherlock.”

Damian scowled back.  “What I mean is, why was he brought here when he is obviously unhappy with the arrangement?”

The billionaire chuckled.  “Come, now, Damian.  Have you  _already_  forgotten how you felt when  _you_  first arrived?”

The boy frowned.  “When I arrived, I was under the impression it would be a temporary home while I… completed the mission assigned me.”

“Well, Danny probably feels somewhat similar.  Knowing what I do about the foster care system… let’s just say that temporary homes are more common than most people care to realize.”

“Why can they not find permanent homes for them?”

Bruce smiled sadly.  “As I said before, if you force ‘help’ on someone… it doesn’t always end up well, for  _either_  party.”

Damian glanced away for a moment, then back.  “Then how  _do_  we help?”

“In a word?  Slowly.”  Bruce rubbed at his chin, glancing briefly towards the computer, checking that the cameras in the teen’s room were still down.  “It can be… challenging, sure, but… I’ve found the best way is to just be  _there_  and be  _patient_.  I mean,  _you_  eventually came around… at least, somewhat.”  Bruce smirked at the boy.

Damian scowled back, then gave a thoughtful look.  “…I suppose I can… try to be more patient with him.”  He shrugged.  “If I could become accustomed to Grayson, this child should be no problem.”

Bruce smiled, patting his son’s back.  “That’s  _one_  way to look at it.”

The boy glanced up at his father, eyebrow raised.  “So, when do you plan on telling him that he is taking exams tomorrow?”

“Knowing him as well as I think, he’s probably figured it out.”

Damian frowned.  “Still, is it not polite to forewarn a person?”

“Sometimes.  However, sometimes… it can be counter-productive.  For one, people who are… curious might rather find things out on their own.  Also… this probably isn’t the first time school’s been tried with him.”

The boy’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

“It seems Amika’s tried this before, but… well, his previous caregivers have been… shall we say,  _less_  than helpful?”

“I see.  So, you will just take him into the school tomorrow without explaining why?”

Bruce shrugged.  “It may come up en route.  Though…” he locked eyes with his son, “for  _certain situations_ , it’s better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.”

The boy smirked back.  “I understand.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**


	7. Chapter 7

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Children are like wet cement.  Whatever falls on them makes an impression._ **

Danny was sitting in his room, browsing through several pages of blueprints on his computer, when he first smelled it.  His ghost powers had heightened his senses to the point that he could identify almost any food just by smell alone and from a long distance.  And what he was smelling now made him close all the windows and his computer and head down for the kitchen.  When he arrived, he peeked around the corner at Alfred.  “…Is that tuna fish?” he mumbled.

Alfred paused for a moment, obviously startled, then turned from where he’d just pulled out some tuna.  “Why, yes, it is.”

Danny edged slowly into the room.  “…Is it ready yet?”

The Brit glanced down at his supplies, seeing that he hadn’t yet prepped or seasoned the fish at all or started any other prep work.  “Well, that depends.  How do you like yours?” he asked, figuring he’d just make whatever his newest charge suggested.

The teen came a bit closer.  “Um, do you have some hot sauce and shredded cheddar cheese?”

Alfred blinked at him, but replied.  “Far right cupboard, right by your head, and… dairy drawer, bottom left of the fridge.”

The half-ghost grabbed those supplies, along with a few more seasonings and items he found in the fridge and cupboard, and began mixing things together.

Alfred watched silently for a while, trying to make sure the boy wouldn’t harm himself while chopping onions and shredding the tuna.  “…Do you require anything else, sir?”

Danny blinked back at Alfred, then at the bowl he was mixing in.  “…Bread?”

“Which kind?  White?  Wheat?  Rye?”

“White,” Danny replied quickly as he preset the oven.  “And do you have a cookie sheet or pizza stone for the oven?”

Alfred gave a slight smirk.  “Cupboard, next to the fridge.”  He pulled out the white loaf, handing it over to Danny while the teen grabbed out the pizza stone and arranging the bread slices on it.  He finished mixing up his ingredients, then spread the mixture onto the slices and slid the stone into the oven.

“I must say,” Alfred commented, “this is a culinary masterpiece I’ve not yet become acquainted with.”

“Open-faced tuna sandwiches,” Danny offered.

“Ah.  I was more referring to your choice of toppings.”

Danny tossed him a confused glance.  “Whaddaya mean?”

“…Hot sauce?”

The teen smirked.  “Only a little.”

Alfred nodded, explaining, “I mean no offense, sir.  It’s just… not exactly something I normally serve.  I’m always up for broadening my experiences, though.  Just… one thing.”  He glanced at the mixing bowl, lips pursing a bit.  “Define ‘a little.’”

Danny shook his head, rolling his eyes.  “There’s only about five drops in that whole batch.”

The Brit still didn’t seem convinced.  “Again, no offense intended, but… this type of sauce doesn’t always necessitate a generous portion.”

The teen gave a small grin.  “Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

Alfred smirked back.  “Oh, I’m not concerned about myself, I’m just… curious as to how Master Damian will react.”

Danny shook his head, turning the light on in the oven to check on the sandwiches without opening the door.  “Seriously, it won’t be a problem.  The brat’ll barely taste it.”

Pennyworth remained concerned.  “I doubt that.  The young man seems  _exceptionally_ … perceptive to  _anything_  out of the ordinary.”

Danny had to refrain from blurting out ‘then why hasn’t he found out I’m half-ghost’, and instead rolled his eyes, grabbing oven mitts.  “You might wanna call ‘em in, it’s gonna be ready in a bit.”

Alfred turned out the kitchen, muttering, “This should be interesting.”

The teen pulled the food out, fanning it slightly to cool it some, then took it over to the table, setting the stone on a hot pad and pulling out plates to set the table.

Pennyworth came back into the room, alerting Danny, “They will join us shortly.”

Danny nodded back, going back into the kitchen to grab some drinks.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

The teen shook his head.  “Nah, unless you’ve got chips stashed somewhere.”

Alfred grabbed a bag off the fridge.  “Would these work?”

Danny glanced at the bag just briefly.  “Yeah, those’re fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it.”

Bruce walked in as they spoke.  “Hm, teaching a cooking class, Alfred?”

Alfred winked.  “Indeed, sir.  Though, I’m not the teacher here.”

As Danny sat at the table, Bruce glanced between the two chefs.  “Is that so…?”

Damian came down then, preventing Alfred from responding, and sniffed a bit, glancing at the table.  “Hot tuna sandwiches?” he scoffed.

“Your detective skills  _never_  cease to amaze, Master Damian,” Alfred drawled.

The boy scowled at him, demanding, “What’s in them?”

“Well, tuna fish, of course.  A few odds and ends, but… it’s a special recipe.  Nothing aversive, I assure you.”

One of Damian’s brows rose.  “You have never been so secretive about your recipes before.”

Danny smirked, grabbing a sandwich.  “Not his recipe.”

Alfred was quick to interject before Damian could snark back.  “Relax, sir.  Try exercising your taste buds.  See if you can discern what is in it.”

“Indeed,” Bruce agreed.  “A well-tested palate can be quite an asset.”

Damian frowned, but picked up one of the sandwiches, studying it carefully.  From across the table, Danny hid a smirk behind his own dinner, focused on watching the boy’s reaction.

Bruce, meanwhile, dug into a third slice of bread, eyes widening a bit as he chewed and swallowed.  “This is delicious!”

Danny completely missed the statement, too busy watching Damian.

The boy took a bite, frowning in concentration.  “…Cheese, mayonnaise, garlic, onion, salt, pepper….”  He frowned even more, nearly scowling at the food.  “…And something else….”

Danny’s smirk grew.

Bruce smiled at his son, having already figured out what ingredient he was missing.  “Very good.  Now, can you identify the unknown?”

“Hmmm….”  Damian took another bite, chewing slowly.  “Maybe… mm, no….  I… I am not sure.”

“Well, it’s obviously nothing too dangerous,” Bruce assured.  “I don’t keep any poisons in the kitchen, and Alfred  _certainly_  would not have let anything serious into our food.”  He cast a brief glance at the teen, adding, “No offense, Danny.”

Damian scowled, obviously annoyed that he couldn’t determine the last ingredient.

Danny noticed and smirked at him, stating, “It’s hot sauce.”

“…Killjoy,” Alfred muttered, then blinked and raised a hand to his mouth, shocked at his own gall.

Danny just shrugged, while Damian pursed his lips.  “It… does not taste very hot,” Damian mumbled.

Bruce sighed.  “Just because there’s ‘hot’ in the name doesn’t mean you’re going to breathe fire every time.”

Danny chuckled, grabbing another sandwich.

“Anyway,” Bruce continued, a bit cautious as he knew the topic he was bringing up would be a sore one, “you two will go in for placement testing tomorrow.”

Sure enough, the teen shot a glare at the billionaire.  “Awesome,” he grumbled.

Bruce, determined to make the best of things and refusing to let the teen talk his way out of it, kept going.  “I realize this may not be… perfect, but… life never is.”

Danny grumbled some more, then stood and stormed back up the stairs.

Damian raised a brow, glancing at his father and snarking, “Good job.”

“Please.  This isn’t the first time I’ve had to make a parental decision.”

“Were Grayson, Todd, and Drake as bad, though?”

There was a slight pause before Bruce admitted, “…At times, perhaps.  Everyone has their… moments.”

Alfred stifled a chuckle, instead replying, “Indeed, sir.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny flipped through the pages of blueprints on his computer, studying each.  “Hmm, so I’ll need to rework around the ectoplasm, and gather some wiring and metal for the casing….”  He scribbled some notes onto a paper beside him, glancing between it and the blueprints, mumbling to himself.  “I’ll have to minimize it, too.  Wouldn’t exactly be subtle if I have a huge device sitting in the room….”  He sighed.  “Then I’ll need to reconfigure the power source.  I’ve got nowhere  _near_  the amount of electricity at my disposal that Technus does….”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “I suppose I could create a generator, but that’d be even  _harder_  to explain….”

A knock came at his door.

Danny froze for a moment, then called, “Uh, yeah?”

_“If you’re not preoccupied, I could give you the tour, sir,”_  Alfred answered.   _“Or, if you wish, we could go to the garage.”_

The teen blinked, having forgotten asking for a tour.  “Um, y—yeah, I’d like that….”  He stood, glancing briefly at his computer and the blueprints again, slowly starting to smirk.  “I’d like to see the garage….”

He met Alfred in the hallway, and the butler quickly led him along.  “I hope I did not disturb you.”

Danny shook his head.  “Nah, it’s fine.”

“I must say, sir, I  _am_  curious.  Do you have any other… hobbies besides your ever-present companion?”

The teen’s brow furrowed.  “My what now?”

“…Your blade, sir.”

Danny blinked.  “Oh, right.”  Honestly, the knife had become such a part of himself that he’d forgotten he carried it.  And that other people remembered he had it.

“… _Do_  you have any other interests?” Alfred prompted when he saw the teen lost in thought.

For another long moment, neither spoke, still walking.  Then, Danny mumbled, “…I dunno.  I mean, I used to, but… I guess I never really kept up with any of them since….”

As he trailed off, Alfred nodded, caught up a bit in his own thoughts.  “I see.  Well, perhaps we can help you in that regard.”  He stopped, holding a door open for the teen.  “Here we are.”

Danny just sort of stared at the door, not seeming to want to head in.

Alfred noticed and hesitated a moment before asking, “Problem, sir?”

The teen blinked.  “Um, no.”  He headed in, looking around at all the cars.  And there were seemingly hundreds, stretching out as far as he could see.

There was a slight pause before Alfred bowed.  “If you need anything, I’ll be in either the kitchen or the library.”

Danny nodded absent-mindedly, and Alfred sighed and left, hoping the teen actually heard him in case Danny wound up needing him.  The half-ghost just continued moving through the inventory, muttering to himself.  “Hmm, if they actually  _do_  let me work on the cars, I could probably get access to some wires for the device….  Maybe I could even get into a metalworks… ng,  _class_ ,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust, hating even the idea, “at  _school_.  Ugh, never thought I’d be looking  _forward_  to it….”

“You’d be surprised.”

He barely managed to keep from jumping (or, Clockwork forbid, turning intangible) at the sudden voice.  Instead, he stiffened and turned, one hand going to the blade he kept in his pocket.

Bruce chuckled from where he was leaning over an engine.  “Watch that thing around the gas lines.”

Danny slowly relaxed, then glared at the billionaire.  “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he hissed.

“Technically,  _you_  snuck up on  _me_ ,” the elder Wayne countered, continuing his work.  “I’ve been here since lunch.  Sneaking implies change of location.”

Danny ignored that, instead taking a closer look at what Bruce was up to.  “You’re getting the wires twisted,” he commented.

“Very astute.  However, in  _this_  case, they’re supposed to be that way.”

“Hn.”  Danny looked over the vehicle, seeing what he assumed was some wear and tear.  “What’re you gonna do with the carburetor?”

“Not much,” Bruce replied.  “This one doesn’t really require much maintenance.  The good cars’re mechanical, no CPU’s or any computing technology, so it’s mostly light upkeep here and there.  Grease, especially elbow grease, is the most important thing to have.”

“Mm.  I guess so.”  Danny leaned against a nearby hood, mumbling, “The only car I’ve really worked on… well, it was a bit… unique.”

Bruce chuckled.  “Don’t tell me it was a Delorean.”

The teen gave a slight smirk.  “Not quite.”

The billionaire kept up his work, but commented, “Well, you’ve got my attention.  What was it?”

“It was….”  Danny glanced off to the side, then continued, quieter.  “It was a car my parents made….”

“I see,” Bruce murmured.  “Kind of a ‘one piece at a time’ thing?”

Danny didn’t answer, too busy glancing down at his shoes.

“…Okay, moving on.”  Bruce stood, cleaning off his hands with a rag.  “Any chance you have an ideal car?”

The teen blinked, seeming to come back to reality.  “…I’ve always like the Diablo.”

Bruce smirked at him.  “Good taste, Danny.  Follow me.”  He led the way over to a separated area, then stopped in front of a huge, rectangular tarp.

Danny tensed slightly, but tried to keep from showing it.  “What’s under there?” he demanded, a hand straying back to his Hawk subconsciously.

“Take a guess.”  The billionaire took the tarp off without waiting, revealing a Diablo parked beside a Countach.

The teen blinked, then gave a  _very_  slight grin.  “Cool.”

“I’m glad you approve.”  Bruce glanced over at him, smirking.  “Care to take a ride?”

Danny’s eye twitched, not sure he liked where this was going.  “What do you mean?”

“Dreaming is one thing,” Bruce replied.  “ _Feeling_  is another.  I’ll show you what these babies can do, if you’re up for it.”

The teen started to stiffen again, eyes going a little wide as his mind made a connection to a bad memory.  “I—I….”  He was gulping now, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

Bruce smiled, a bit bitter, realizing that the teen was caught up in something unsavory.  “Or, I could leave you two alone for a minute.”  He knew there’d be no way for Danny to take a joy ride, so he turned and headed for the door.

“…Sorry….”

Danny’s soft voice reached him just before he left, and Bruce turned to face him again.  “Pardon?”

The half-ghost was sitting next to the cars, having slid down off the hood.  “I… can’t help it, sometimes,” he mumbled.  “It’s….”  He waved a hand vaguely, trying to come up with the right words but failing.

The billionaire smiled softly.  “No apology necessary, Danny.”  He nodded to something behind the teen.  “You see the picture of the couple on the back wall there?”

Danny glanced back briefly, not wanting to let Wayne out of his sight for too long.  “Yeah, what about ‘em?”

Bruce walked back over, explaining.  “My parents.  They—They were killed when I was young.  If not for Alfred, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

The teen looked down, not sure how to respond.

“I’m not trying to engender any false empathy here,” Bruce assured.  “It’s a part of my life, quite well-know in Gotham, and I feel it best that you hear about it from myself first.  I was reared to always remember how fortunate I am, so please… don’t feel like you need to constantly make amends for who you are.  We all have our… demons of the past.”

Danny couldn’t seem to make eye contact, half-shrugging and mumbling, “I guess….”

Sensing the slight victory for what it was, Bruce reminded, “So, if you want a ride, you’re welcome to it.  Either way, your choice.”

“…I… think I might,” Danny admitted.

“Only if you want to,” Bruce reassured.  “I don’t want to impose anything.”

“…You’re not,” the teen replied.  “I’m… I just….”  He chuckled bitterly.  “I’m not exactly used to someone being nice with no strings attached.”

Bruce’s head cocked to one side slightly.  “Well, I do have  _some_  ‘strings’.  I leave people to their own space, but… I’m not against protecting what’s mine.”

Danny gave a slight twitch before forcing himself to still.  “I… guess that’s understandable.”

“I’m glad we agree.  Now…” Bruce gestured towards the car, “shall we?”

The teen nodded and stood.

Bruce opened the passenger door, holding it for Danny.  “After you.”

And suddenly the teen was extremely tense, hands balled into fists and nearly trembling.  “I can open the door myself, y’know,” he huffed.

“I know.  You’ll have to suffer through some things, though.  I  _am_  your host, after all.”

Danny was frozen for a moment, then bolted.

The billionaire’s eyes closed as he thought back over his phrasing.  “Okay… maybe not the  _best_  choice of words….”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny wasn’t even sure where he’d wound up.  He’d just run, taking off from the garage and trying to put as much space as possible between him and, well,  _anyone_  else, really.  He finally stopped in a hallway, heaving for deeper breaths and tugging at his hair.  “Why?” he growled at himself.  “Stupid, stupid, ugh!”  He banged his head back against the wall, sliding down to sit against it.  “This isn’t there, they aren’t like—like  _him_ ,” he hissed, tugging again at his hair.  “Stop overreacting to every damn thing they say!”  His eyes squeezed shut.  “Quit doing this to yourself….”  He huffed, slowly getting his breathing back to normal, eyes still closed as he pulled once more at his hair.  “He didn’t mean anything by that….  Why can’t I just  _realize_  that?!”

“…Is something wrong, sir?”

The teen glanced up at Alfred, hands still tangled.  “Um… s—sorta….”

Alfred sat down across from Danny, making sure to leave enough space to let the other know he wasn’t trying to push.  “Anything I can help with?  Something you want to talk about, perhaps?”

For a long moment, neither spoke.  Then, finally, Danny mumbled, “…There… was a… house I stayed at.  The—The guy there, he fostered a lot of kids, and….”  He squeezed his eyes closed again, gripping his hair tighter.

The butler blinked.  “…I see….”

Danny shook his head, eyes still closed.  “He—He started off just nice, but… he wasn’t….”

Alfred sighed.  “Most people of that… flavor do fit in rather well, at first….”

The teen slowly dragged his hands from his hair, laying them at his sides.  “There was a girl there,” he murmured, eyes blank and staring through the wall.  “She was only eight….  He….”

The Brit moved closer, resting a hand on the teen’s shoulder.  “You needn’t say more, sir, if you don’t want to.”

Danny wrapped his arms around his legs, quietly continuing.  “…I saw it happen, and… I couldn’t stop it.”  He squeezed his eyes shut again, tightening his hold on his knees.  “Just like at home, I couldn’t—couldn’t help her….”

Alfred cautiously pulled him into a hug, keeping his hold loose enough that Danny could push away if he became uncomfortable.  “I’m  _so_  sorry, sir.”  Tears were forming in his eyes, just from the thought of what the teen must have gone through.  “So very,  _very_  sorry….”

The teen allowed the hug, two rivulets coming from his own eyes and tracing down his cheeks.  “It’s not fair!  Th—That shouldn’t have happened!  To  _any_  of them!”

Pennyworth’s eyes closed tightly.  “Indeed, sir….”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Bruce was reading an old favorite in his study, sighing as he finally managed to get his mind off the masterful muck-up he’d caused earlier.  “Sometimes there’s nothing better than a good book by the fireplace.”

“…Quite.”

The billionaire looked up, not having expected the reply from Alfred.  “Something the matter?”

Alfred was obviously unnerved, to the point where he was visibly showing signs.  “Not with me, sir,” he responded.  “It seems our guest is a bit… under the weather.”

Bruce sighed, closing his book.  “That would be my doing, I’m afraid.  I believe I said the wrong thing while in—”

“It wasn’t you, sir.”

The younger man blinked, still sure he was at fault.  “Wasn’t it?”

“…No.”

A short stare-down at the butler gave Bruce all the answers he needed.  Apparently, his words may have triggered a memory, but that memory had led to a breakdown.  And by the way Alfred had reacted… terrible things had happened in the teen’s past, other than the decimation of his home town.  “…I see.”

Alfred straightened, forcing himself to focus on tasks to keep his mind off what had happened earlier.  “Well, I best get dinner going.”

Bruce nodded.  “Indeed.  I’ll take care of Damian when he asks.”  For both knew that the boy would demand to know what had happened.

“Thank you, sir.”

Both headed for the kitchen, and Alfred began to pull out ingredients.  Bruce watched for a moment before sighing.  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about apples this time, Alfred.”

“…Quite right, sir,” the butler murmured.  “Any ideas?”

Before Bruce could answer, Damian blazed into the kitchen, glancing around with a brow raised.  “Where is Fenton?” he demanded.

“He’s calling it early today,” Bruce explained.  “Didn’t say why, but… it might have something to do with tomorrow.”  Both adults had decided that it would be best not to tell Damian the full story, given that Danny probably was upset enough that Alfred knew.

The boy frowned.  “I see….  But is it not ill-advised to skip a meal?”

“Not always, sir,” Alfred replied, deciding to give an impromptu health lesson.  “Forcing food down can, at times, be… counter-productive.  The mind has a way of… overruling what the body wants, and sometimes even something it  _needs_.”

“Tt,” the boy scoffed.  Then, he dropped the frown, glancing over to his father with vague concern flashing across his face.  “Will he be alright for the exams tomorrow?”

Bruce smirked.  “Oh, I don’t think the  _exams_  are what’s worrying him.”

Damian’s brow furrowed, and he frowned once more.  “Then what  _is_ worrying him?”

“Mm… I think ‘worry’ is the wrong word… maybe ‘apprehension’?”

“Quite so,” Alfred continued.  “You see, sir, our guest isn’t concerned for safety, or anything of the like.  It’s more that he’s… anticipating a clash of personalities.”

The boy’s head tilted to the side.  “Whose personalities?”

“In a word?” Bruce asked back.  “His and anyone else’s.  Some people can be quite… rude, and I think Danny’s learned—for better or worse—that the best way to survive is to stay  _very_  tight-lipped.  If things change as quickly and as drastically as they do in a foster care situation… survival takes precedent over sociability.”

“…What could have brought about that sort of mentality?” Damian wondered.

“Well….”  Bruce cast his mind about for an example before landing on one.  “Try this.  How do you think you’d feel if, instead of being reared with your mother and the league, you were left parent-less by age… let’s say five.  You were passed around from house to house, never really staying anywhere for more than a month or so, until you were taken to a place similar to this when you became….”  Bruce turned to Alfred, asking, “Would you say Danny’s seventeen?”

“Or somewhere thereabouts, yes,” Alfred replied with a nod.

“Right, seventeen.”  Bruce looked back to his son.  “How do you think you’d handle things?”

The boy frowned.  “I… suppose I would not have much trust in people.  But he has only been without family for two years.  Could such a thing truly come to pass in so short a time?”

Once more, Bruce had to pause in thought.  Sure, he knew that it was possible, but how to get that across to the boy?  “…That may be true.  However, couple that with the… event that started this whole thing—an event which, I’m sure, we’ll never really know  _everything_  about—and I’d say it’s completely within reason that someone may develop a hard shell.  I have no doubt that Danny’s still human—he’s not sociopathic, or anything—but… he’s definitely cautious.  I certainly don’t blame him for acting thus.”  Especially given it was partially his fault….

“Tt.”  There was a long pause as Damian apparently thought that through, then a softly asked question.  “…Is there any way to… soften that shell?”

Bruce frowned.  “Not without a  _sufficient_  amount of time.”  He needed to make sure the boy didn’t try to jump the gun on this.  “Not to mention the person’s willingness to let it down.  As I said, they don’t necessarily  _want_  to be so… cold towards everyone, but… at least to them, it’s better than the alternative.”

The boy paused a moment, then, even quieter, mumbled, “…What alternative?”

The billionaire fixed a look on his son.  “Losing what’s left of one’s sanity… maybe even one’s life.”

That seemed to finally strike a chord for the pre-teen.  That vague flash of concern became more solid.  “That… truly may happen?  He… could be in danger of that even now?”

While Bruce was glad to see the boy taking something other than crime fighting seriously, he knew he should also calm him before he tried to intervene.  “Well, I suppose a relapse is always possible.  That’s one reason I try to be careful around people.  You never really know what their stories are.  They may seem… odd at first blush, but there’s always a reason they are the way they are.  If there’s no other reason, then there’s practicality: if it didn’t work  _at all_ , they wouldn’t act that way.”

Damian avoided eye contact for a moment, processing what he’d been told.  For someone who came across as tough and unbreakable, apparently Danny was fragile at heart.  It made Damian briefly concerned that maybe he, too, was like that.  He decided to shove that thought back and looked back to his father.  “Are you sure he can sit the exams tomorrow?”

If Bruce were surprised by the sudden change in topic, he didn’t show it.  “I think he should do well.  If I thought otherwise, he wouldn’t be going tomorrow.”  He sighed, thinking back over his own run-ins with the teen that day.  “He seems more than able to handle day-to-day occurrences.  Just… watch your attitude,” he warned.  “If something comes up that’s either very personal, or somehow reminds him of something from his past… let’s just say all bets are off.”

“…I see.”  The boy pursed his lips, another issue coming to mind.  “If he has not been to school in two years, how can you be so sure he will do well?”

Once again, Bruce had to sigh.  “Call it a hunch, but… I think Danny’s  _more_ than ready for the academics.  Studying books is one thing.  Dealing with people?  That’s a  _whole_  other animal….”

Damian scowled.  “But, you mentioned the shell he developed.  Would he not find it worse to be around so many people when still in such a defensive state?”

While Bruce had to give his son credit for his logic, he knew people weren’t always so easily explained.  “At this point, I doubt it.”  When it looked like the boy was going to object, he continued, “You see, Damian, if someone has a well-developed cocoon, most harmless banter would bounce off like a rubber ball hitting a sidewalk.  He’d feel  _something_ , more than likely, just… not enough to elicit a true reaction.  He’s not at the point where he feels total seclusion is better than chancing injury from human interaction.”

“Thank God for that!” Alfred interjected, busily stirring up something for dinner.

Damian glanced between the two adults before focusing on Pennyworth.  “…What  _really_  happened earlier?” he demanded.

The butler studied the boy for a moment, then replied, “Let’s just say some… old feelings came up.  It’s not uncommon for such an… incident to happen to  _anyone_ , really.  He needed to… release some aggression, so we let him do just that.  Sometimes, finding a way to  _properly_  handle one’s… outbursts can be crucial in the healing process.“

The boy frowned.  “He did not… injure anyone in his release of aggression, did he?”

Alfred gave a slightly shaky smile, still unnerved from the story he’d heard.  “Oh, no, sir.  He merely needed an ear to bend.”  He sighed.  “I must say, for someone so… guarded, he certainly seems to have been able to keep a good hold on himself.”

Damian frowned at both of the adults, realizing that they were hiding something more, but before he could say anything, blaringly loud music pounded through the ceiling.  The boy rolled his eyes, commenting, “It would appear he’s awake.”

Bruce sighed, then headed upstairs to knock on Danny’s door.

The music only barely turned down in volume.  “ _What?_ ” the teen called.

“…Care for some dinner, Danny?”

There was a pause, then the music shut off and the door opened just enough for one of Danny’s eyes to peek out.  “…No.”

Bruce nodded.  “Just thought I’d ask.  Unless there’s something you need, I suppose this is good night.”

Just before Bruce turned to walk away, Danny demanded, “What’s really goin’ on tomorrow?”

The billionaire blinked at him.  “I’m not sure what you mean.  You and Damian are going to take a placement test at Brentwood Academy.”

A glare almost on par with the Batglare shot back at him.  “Brentwood.  Awesome.”

Bruce was unphased by the sardonic response.  “I understand this isn’t the best contingency possible, but… I think Brentwood is a  _much_  better choice than a public school.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, great.  Bullies in uniform rather than just in casual clothes.”

Wayne shrugged.  “Hazard of the situation, no matter the location.  However, I think you know as well as I that there are certain ways of… dealing with such individuals.”

“Yeah, but forgive me if I don’t use ‘em.”  Danny nearly snarled.  “The last few places, I got threatened with Juvie if I ‘dealt’ with the bullies.”

One of Bruce’s brows arched up at that.  “I wasn’t referring to your Hawk.  Rather, I was suggesting you employ a more important weapon….”

Once more, Danny rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, neither was I.”

“…I was suggesting you use your mind.  You were thinking of…?”

The teen sighed.  “Yeah, unfortunately, not everyone  _can_  use their minds….”

Bruce couldn’t seem to believe this.  “You’re saying you’ve  _never_  outwitted  _anyone?_ ”

Danny gave a slight glare.  “I’m saying that  _after_  I outwit them, they go running off to Mommy and Daddy and say how I’m a big, scary bully with a big, scary knife.  Then, next thing I know, there’s cops at the door and I’m trying to explain to them that I never pulled a blade on those morons.”

That, sadly, made more sense.  “I see….”  Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to keep either of the boys from bullies at the school, but he could at least reassure them that he’d do his best.  “I suppose that could happen again here.  However, you’ll have some people in your corner this time.  I know the faculty at Brentwood well.  I’m also acquainted with many of the parents who enroll their children there.”

Danny sighed, then opened the door a little wider, still glaring.  “You don’t get it, do you?  People were bad enough at public school, you think the cocky, spoiled rich kids are gonna be better?”

“Not at all,” Bruce denied.  “I’m merely… hoping that you can have better luck  _getting through it_  this time.  Sure, there will be some… less-than-friendly persons, but, then, they’re around no matter  _where_  you go.  I’m not saying the children will be any better, just that I think the  _situation_  will—or, at least, has the possibility of it.”  There was a slight pause as Bruce let that sink in before trying one more tactic.  “Are you saying that you’d feel better in another public school?”

“…No….”

The billionaire had to bite back a grin.  “As I thought.  Look, Danny, no one’s expecting you to  _relish_  this.  Amika and I know school isn’t your favorite activity.  However, it  _is_  something that has its own merits.  People can be bossy, snobbish, what-have-you, no matter where you go or how old you are.  I’m not trying to get into an argument over this,” he calmed when he saw Danny about to object.  “I’m only stating that you’ll have some people who  _will_  help this time.  Namely, Alfred and myself.  It would be… foolish to assume there will  _never_  be any… occurrences, but at least you won’t be alone this time—I mean no offense.”  Because he certainly knew Danny could fend for himself, as he had for two years.

Though it seemed he’d offended anyway, as the door shut in his face and Danny mumbled through it,  _“Just go eat your dinner.”_

Bruce sighed.  “As you wish.”  He returned to the kitchen, where Alfred looked up, having just cleaned up Damian’s place.  The boy brushed past his father to head to his own room.

“How’d it go, sir?” Alfred asked.

With a brief pause to think over the conversation he’d had, Bruce admitted, “Well, I’d say.  He’s still… defensive, but I think we’re making progress.”

“Very good, sir.”

Bruce looked over the meal, seeing that Alfred needed to reheat it anyway, and decided, “I believe I’ll give Miss Ouwa a call first.”

“Excellent idea, sir,” the butler replied.

The billionaire dialed the phone, waiting only a moment before he received a,  _“Hello?”_

“Amika Ouwa?”

_“Yes, who is this?”_

“Bruce Wayne,” he responded.

_“Oh, hi, Mr. Wayne.  Um, is there some sort of problem, or—?”_

“No, no problem.  At least, not of the sort you’re probably thinking….”

Amika apparently didn’t believe that.   _“Then why the sudden call?”_

“Honestly?  I was wondering if you had any pointers.  You see, I’m enrolling Danny in Brentwood, and—”

_“Oh, Brentwood?”_  Amika sounded shocked and impressed.   _“I’ve heard such good things about it!”_

“—Yes, well, Danny is…” Bruce had to fish for the right word, “apprehensive, as you can probably guess.”

_“Ah, yes, I suppose he would be….”_

“…So, any tips to help… ease the transition?”

A sigh crackled over the phone.   _“Unfortunately, I have yet to find anything to help with that.”_

Bruce frowned, disappointed but not that surprised.  “I see.  Well, I suppose I’ll just have to hope for the best, then….”

_“I’m really sorry I can’t be of more help.”_

“Oh, no worries,” he assured.  “Even no help is helpful, if that makes sense.”

_“Trust me, with Danny, it does,”_  she replied.   _“Now, is there anything else you wanted to mention, or was that it?”_

“That was it, for my part… I hope I didn’t interrupt anything with this call.”

_“Oh, no, you didn’t.  But, Mr. Wayne, I hope you know you can tell me anything that’s going on.  I want to be able to help Danny, and help you all know how to help him.”_

Bruce grinned at the woman’s concern.  “I would expect nothing less, Amika.  Given what I  _do_  know of Danny’s… history, I’m glad he has someone so… focused on his safety.”

_“…Mr. Wayne, what happened?”_

He sighed.  “It appears he had a bit of a… relapse, pertaining to a previous placement.  Someone who liked classic cars… and children?”  He tried to phrase it as delicately as he could.

A crackle came over the line as Amika sighed.   _“That sounds like Swathers.  What kind of relapse was it?”_

Bruce frowned, glancing at Alfred, who hadn’t exactly given him the full story earlier.  “Not sure, actually.  Enough to get him to his room, but not enough to cause any  _permanent_  damage.”

_“Is there anything else you can tell me about it?  Would anyone else know some more about the… ah, the after effects?”_

“Well… one moment.“  Bruce covered the phone, calling Alfred over to take the other phone.  Then, he uncovered the mouthpiece.  “Alfred may know something.”

“I believe so, sir,” the butler stated into the device.  “Miss Ouwa, he  _did_ express some… regret toward inaction on his part while at that… location.”

_“Ah.”_   The social worker sounded a little shaky, probably thinking back over Danny’s time at that house.   _“Yes, he has… had that issue a few times.  Was there anything in particular that was said?”_

“Amika,” Bruce interrupted before Alfred could answer, “I understand your… thoroughness, but I must protest.  There’s a fine line between security and privacy and, in this instance, I believe we’re getting  _dangerously_  close to it.”

_“…I suppose,”_  she mumbled before taking a breath and continuing.   _“Alright.  Let Danny know he can call any time.”_

“I’m sure he knows, but I will remind him.”

_“Thank you.  And I apologize for pushing.  I remember how upset he was when leaving that house, and I was worried he might’ve been just as bad.”_

“I can understand your concern.  I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

They exchanged goodbyes, then hung up.

Alfred sighed.  “Well, that was… enlightening.”

“Indeed,” Bruce replied.  “She sure seems willing to protect Danny, but… it’s also apparent that she’s letting her job get in the way of her charge.”

“Only too easy to do, I’m afraid.  Even for the most well-meaning of sorts….”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**


	8. Chapter 8

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_In school, you’re taught a lesson and then given a test.  In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson._ **

A knock at the door had Danny sitting up in bed, rubbing at his messy hair.  “Whaaat?” he groaned, glancing at the clock and wishing it was about five hours later than it was.

_“Up and at them, Master Fenton!”_

Danny looked back at the door, blinking blearily.  “…F’r what?”

_“Why, your first foray into Brentwood.”_

The teen’s nose wrinkled at the reminder.  “…Awesome.”

_“…Yes, well….”_   Alfred seemed to be struggling to keep upbeat, probably thinking it’d help Danny feel better about going to the school.   _“Master Damian’s already set, so… whenever you come down….”_

“So, never?” Danny grumbled, half-serious.

_“That’s not an option, Danny, and you know it.”_   Great, Bruce was outside now, too.

“Ugh.  Fine, I’ll be down in a few….” Danny huffed, flopping back on his bed for a moment.

_“…Very well,”_ Alfred quietly acknowledged.

_“I’ll be outside, Alfred.”_

_“Of course, sir.”_

Danny listened to their footsteps trail away, then sighed, standing from his bed and stretching like a cat.  “Alright, guess I’ve gotta get ready, then….”

He dug clothes out from his suitcase, changing quickly and opening his laptop.  A chat message popped up almost immediately, and he clicked on it, waving at the green-skinned ghost that was waiting for him.

“Hey, Technus.  They’re sending me off to school for placement tests, so I won’t be on for long.”

The inventor nodded.   _“Alright, I’ll let the others know you won’t be in touch.  Good luck, kiddo.”_

“Thanks.  …I think.”  Danny logged off and closed his laptop, stowing it in his backpack.  He sighed, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the bedhead, but turned to head downstairs, grumbling to himself, “Alright, let’s get this over with….”

Alfred looked up as Danny entered.  “Good morning, Master Daniel.  Master Wayne thought he could… soften the blow, so….”  He opened the front door, showing that Bruce had the Diablo idling outside.

Danny paused for a moment when he saw it, but trudged over to the car.

Bruce gave a slight grin, glad to see the teen was willing to give the school a try.  “Damian’s in the back.  He protested, but I think you deserve the passenger seat.”

“…Thanks.”

The teen didn’t move, and Bruce’s grin dropped.  Still no trust there, then.  The billionaire sighed.  “Well, shall we?”

Danny finally opened the door and slid into the car, shutting the door behind him.

A huff came from the backseat, where Damian sat with his arms crossed.  “Can we finally go, then?”

Bruce slipped the car into gear.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

The car ride was silent for the most part, Bruce attempting to start a conversation or two but being ignored by Danny and only getting monosyllable answers out of Damian.  Neither boy was very thrilled with being sent to the school, though Damian was in a slightly better mood over it because “Grayson had tried to get him to attend previously”.

“We’re here,” the teen muttered, gaze still focused out the window.

Bruce nodded, pulling in and parking.  “Would you two rather I wait here, or wait for a call when you’re both done?”

Both answered at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Bruce blinked.  “Which to which part?”

“Yes, wait for a call,” Damian replied.

“No, don’t wait,” Danny disagreed.  “For  _anything_.”

“Then what do you propose?” the billionaire asked the teen.

“Who cares?”  Danny shoved open the door and went into the building.

Damian rolled his eyes.  “I will call you when we are both done.”

“Very well.  Good luck, son.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny may not have been to school recently, but he knew how to find his way around one.  Upon entering, he immediately looked for an office sign and angled towards it.

Damian caught up with him shortly after, huffing, “Are you sure you know where you are going?”

The teen just ignored him, shoving open a door and entering the office.

“…Oh.”

The secretary glanced up at them.  “Ah… Daniel, correct?”

The teen nodded, and the youngest Wayne quickly added, “And I am Damian Wayne.”

“Yes, we were expecting you two.”  The secretary stood, waving them down the hall.  “Right this way, gentlemen.”

The two moved further down the hall, seeing two doors opened across from each other.  The secretary motioned first to one door, then the other.  “This is your room, Daniel.  Damian, you’re across the hall.”

Danny shrugged and entered, but Damian frowned.  He hadn’t realized they’d be separated.  He looked up at the secretary.  “Can you make sure that he does not leave without me?  I have to call Father for a ride home.”

The woman seemed a bit confused, but nodded, agreeing.

Damian thanked her and went into his room.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Even after being out of school for nearly two years, Danny managed to finish his placement test quickly, glancing through once due to ingrained habit taught to him by his sister.  His old grades might not have reflected it, but he  _was_  fairly intelligent, he just had trouble sitting still in class (more so after the ghosts started turning up).

Still, he stood and handed the exam in to his proctor, exiting the room and heading for the door out of the office.

The secretary was paying attention, though, and looked up as he passed her.  “Daniel?”

He stopped, curses flying through his head, and gave her a deadpan look.  “Yeah?”

“You’re… supposed to wait here for your ride.”

He rolled his eyes, stating, “I can walk,” and turned for the door once more.

It opened as he reached it, and he had to pause again, glancing up at the woman before him.  She had blonde, long hair and wore a black dress and a suit jacket.  She smirked at the teen.  “No doubt you can, Danny, but that’s not the issue at hand.  Bruce will be here to pick you  _and_  Damian up shortly.  If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.”  She shot him a stern look.  “Just please stay here until he arrives.”

Danny scowled, but knew with her blocking the door, there’d be no way for him to leave without either shoving her aside (which would be incredibly rude and very against everything his parents had taught him growing up) or using his powers (which he still refused to do on his own, let alone in front of people).  “Fine,” he huffed, crossing his arms defensively.

The secretary shot the woman a relieved look over Danny’s head, and the woman nodded back before gesturing towards the seats.

Danny rolled his eyes but sat, grumbling under his breath.

Luckily, Damian finished just a moment later and took a quick glance around the room.  “So,” he began, “since we are both done, shall I call Father to pick us up?”

The teen shrugged, still annoyed at his lack of an escape, but the woman in the door slid to the side as Bruce came in, saying, “No need, Damian.”

“Hello, Father,” the boy greeted.

Danny stood, rolling his eyes.  “We going now?”

Bruce agreed easily, turning to the woman to say, “Thanks for the heads-up, Chase.”

She grinned back at him.  “No problem.”  She turned to the boys.  “Nice to meet you two.”

Damian, who had heard of the woman before, nodded and replied, “You, as well, Miss Meridian.”

Danny was at the door, obviously itching to leave.  “We going or not?”

The adults exchanged a quick goodbye, then Bruce led the way back to the car.  Once they were on the road, he asked, “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” Danny grumbled, staring out the window rather than at either of the other occupants.

“Did you test out?” Bruce teased, trying to get some sort of response.

The teen merely shrugged, but Damian stated, “They did not give us our results.”

“Well, how do you  _feel_  you did?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought.  “I suppose I did alright.  I do not feel as though I ‘bombed’ it, as Grayson says.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “God, you sound like you’re an ancient old man in a child’s body….”

“What is that supposed to mean?” the boy snarled.

Bruce cut in quickly to avoid more trouble.  “It means you aren’t as verse in slang as most persons your age.”

“And why should that be turned into an insult?”

“Because you’re fricking  _ten!_ ” Danny burst, glaring back at the boy.

Bruce sighed.  “Danny, please try to understand.  Originally, Damian was reared in a more… proper environment.”

“What  _environment_ , military school?!  The kid acts like he’s fifty!  …Or like he was  _raised_  in the fifties….”

“…Actually, the first guess isn’t too far off the mark…” Bruce mumbled.

Danny turned to blink at Bruce.  “Why the  _hell_  was a  _kid_  raised in  _military school?!_ ”

The billionaire’s eyes hardened.  “His upbringing may not have been the  _easiest_ , but he’s pulled through well.”

Danny huffed and turned back to the window.

Bruce softened a bit, and his eyes returned to the road, trying to change the subject.  “So, what does everyone want for dinner?”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Upon arriving to the mansion, Danny stormed inside, ignoring the others entirely and locking himself away in his room.  Alfred greeted Damian and Bruce from the kitchen, questioning after the noise and the newest resident and finding that the answers to both were intertwined.

“Oh, my…” he murmured after Damian bemoaned their annoying tests, “well, at least he made it through the day….”

“He attempted to walk home after he finished his exam,” the boy tattled.

Alfred sighed.  “I’m not surprised.”

Danny moseyed into the room, idly asking, “Surprised by what?”

“Well, I’d hope to surprise you, sir,” the butler stated, uncovering a dish.  “I hope I made it correctly.”

The teen obviously realized that the others had been discussing something else prior to his entrance, and he cast a suspicious glance around the room.  Finally, he rolled his eyes and gave up on figuring it out, merely snatching up a plate and sitting, starting to shovel food into his mouth.  “Looks fine.”

Damian frowned, glancing at the battered food items before him.  “Did we not just have stir fry, Alfred?”

“Very good, Damian,” the butler praised.  “However, this is a bit of a different style.”

“Indeed,” Bruce commented.  “This looks more like… deep-fried?”

“Tempura,” Danny mumbled through a mouthful before Alfred could answer.

The youngest Wayne scowled at the teen.  “Have you no table manners?”

The halfa smirked, sticking out his tongue with his mouth open.

“Obviously not,” the boy grimaced.

“Some meals call for a… different etiquette,” Alfred offered.

“Indeed.  Have you ever had barbecue, Damian?”

“No.”

Bruce sighed.  “Pity.”

The phone interrupted whatever argument Damian was about to put forward, and Bruce stood to answer it.  “Hello?”

_“Hello, is this Mr. Wayne?”_

“Speaking.”

_“Ah, Mr. Wayne, I am Principal Nazigan from Brentwood Academy.”_

So this was the call he’d been waiting for.  Hopefully the boys had done decently well on their exams and what would follow would be a simple exchange of niceties and prerequisites for starting their classes.  “How is everything?”

_“Fine, Mr. Wayne.  I was calling to give you the results of Daniel and Damian’s placement tests.”_

“I see.  What’s the report?”

_“Well, Damian has placed well above his age group.  He can start 7th grade upon entry to our school.”_   Not too surprising, but admirable for the boy.  Now if he can just manage to not annoy his classmates….   _“Daniel has also done above the average for his age.  He’ll be able to join our graduating class and attend advanced placement or college-level courses.”_

Bruce blinked.  He’d assumed as much for the teen, but it was good to hear that his two years’ off from classes hadn’t caused a nosedive in his studies.  “I see.  Anything else?”

_“Well…”_  the man trailed uncertainly.   _“Our tests also had a… psychological portion, as a base line for us before we take on students.”_

Oh dear.

_“Based on their answers in these portions, we would suggest that both Daniel and Damian attend sessions with a psychiatrist, just to assure that there are no… problems with their adjustment to our school.”_

At least they weren’t pushing it, just suggesting.  “We’ll take it into consideration.  Thank you for the update.”

_“You’re welcome, sir.  I hope it’s not too forward, but we do have a school psychiatrist if you believe that may be easier than looking for a private practice.”_

“I appreciate the offer,” Bruce demurred, mentally adding,  _Even though you’re being rather persistent about it._   “I’ll let you know soon.”

_“Very good, sir.  We still just need to know whether Daniel and Damian wish to join our senior and 7th grade classes, respectively, or if they would prefer sticking to their own age groups or the years they left off at, along with which electives they wish to sign up for.  You can either do that over the phone with me or come in tomorrow before classes begin to sign up for courses.”_

“Very good, we’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

_“See you then.”_

The phone clicked off, and nearly immediately, Damian was asking, “Who was that, Father?”

“Brentwood’s principal.”

“Oh?  What was said?”  The boy was doing a terrible job hiding his curiosity, while the teen simply rolled his eyes, ignoring the conversation in favor of eating more food.

“It seems you two did quite well, after all.”

Damian’s head tilted slightly.  “How so?”

Now the teen was having some trouble masking his curiosity.

“Apparently, should you choose to, you can join their seventh grade classes, Damian.”

The boy’s lips pursed.  “And where would I have been placed normally?”

“You’re what, ten?” Danny interrupted.  “You’d’ve been in fifth.”

“Generally speaking, that would be the case,” Bruce admitted.

“And Daniel?” Alfred asked.

“He could join Tim’s class.”

Danny scowled suspiciously at them.  “Who’s Tim?”

“A friend.”

The scowl merely deepened, but Damian rolled his eyes and added, “He stayed here for a while, about a year back.  He still comes by from time to time, like Grayson does.”

“Indeed.  All who stay within these hallowed walls are welcome,” Alfred said happily.  “This house has sheltered many people over the years.”

The teen huffed.  “And again, awesome, a frat house.”

“I’ve stayed in worse,” Bruce commented.

Danny scoffed and shoved away from the table.  “I’m goin’ to bed.”

As the teen headed towards the stairs, Bruce quickly mentioned, “One thing, first.  We’ll be heading back there tomorrow so you can each choose your electives before classes.  Danny, you’ll also have the option of which, if any, AP or other college-level courses you wish to take.”

The teen didn’t even pause, halfway up the stairs.  “Great.”

“So, same time tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Awesome.  ‘Night.”  His door slammed shut behind him.

Alfred and Bruce shared a slightly concerned look, more so on the butler’s part.  “I suppose he’s ready for it.”

“Probably as much as we can expect,” Bruce replied.

Damian glanced between the two, realizing that they weren’t sharing everything.  “What are you leaving out?”

“Nothing to concern yourself over.”

The boy scowled.  “What is it, Father?  What else did they say?”

“They’re ready to lend any assistance either of you may need,” his father said simply, knowing the boy wouldn’t look too far into it.

However, he obviously recognized it as the evasion it was.  “If you do not wish to tell the truth, simply say so,” he huffed before storming off to his own room.

Bruce sighed.  “I doubt he’d have been so… understanding had I actually told him.”

“Indeed, sir.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

The alarm blared in Danny’s ear the next morning, and the teen immediately slammed his fist into the clock, groaning.  “Too early….”  He finally blinked blearily at the clock, cursing when he saw that it had been smashed to pieces.  “Dammit….”

_Knockknock_

His glare shot over to the door, snarling, “ _What?_ ”

_“Get up,”_  the brat called from the other side.   _“It is time for us to go to school.”_

Danny groaned again but got up.  “Fine, I’ll be out in a bit.”

_“You only have ten minutes until breakfast is over.”_

“Great.   _Leave_.”

As the boy left, Danny changed, grabbed his backpack, and headed downstairs.

Alfred nodded as the elder of the two slumped into a seat.  “Morning, Master Daniel.  I hope you’re ready for breakfast.”

The teen groaned, laying his head on the table.  “I’m ready to go back to sleep.”

The butler smirked, having recognized the signs.  “I thought as much.”  He handed over a glass, saying, “Try this.  It’s my own recipe for a good wake-up.”

Danny took the cup, first sniffing at it, then taking a sip.  “… ’s good.”

“And it should get you going.  Well… at least until lunch.”

The teen nodded, and Damian headed for Bruce, imploring, “Should we not be going now, Father?”

The man shrugged.  “I suppose.”  The two started towards the door, but paused when they realized the teen was still sitting at the table, sipping his drink and looking entirely out of it.

“…Coming, Danny?”

The teen blinked, drained his cup, then stood to follow.  “Yeah.’

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

The drive was mostly taken up by a discussion of what AP courses were and why, even though he’d been moved ahead, Damian’s classes were not considered AP.  Danny decided to exit the car as quickly as possible upon arrival, causing him to hop out before the car had even fully stopped.

“…That… was not very safe,” Damian murmured, blinking after the teen.

Bruce smirked.  “It  _was_  well-timed, though.”

The boy waited for the car to be safely parked, then also exited, asking his still-seated father, “Should we not head in as well?”

“You go ahead, I’ll be along in a moment.”

Damian gave a slightly suspicious look, but nodded and headed in.

Bruce sat for a moment, then a tapping at the window caused him to roll it down.  “Right on schedule.”

Tim Drake grinned at the man.  “Well, let’s just say I was very curious when you mentioned spying on a new student.”

“I thought as much.  His name is Daniel Fenton.  He’s a new resident at the manor.”

The teen chuckled.  “Of course he is.  He the usual, then?”  Tim tugged at his black hair.

“As far as appearances may go, yes.”

“Okay, easy enough to spot.  Anything else?”

“Perhaps.  Have you heard anything about an incident in Amity Park?”

“The massacre from two years ago?  There hasn’t been anything else since then.  Citizens are attributing that to the protection of ghosts.”

Bruce really shouldn’t be surprised at the depths Tim went when researching.  “Yes, well… it seems our… friend was a part of that… event.”

“Hmm, I thought the name sounded familiar….”  He blinked over at Bruce.  “So, why the guard duty, then?  I thought the person responsible was dead.”

“Let’s just say his… absence may only be temporary.”

Tim’s hand was at his chin as he thought that through, nodding.  “Makes sense,  _especially_  in Amity Park, Most Haunted Town in America.  So, I’ll keep an eye out for Fenton.  Is that all?”

“Mostly.  You’ve heard, no doubt of the… other addition to these halls?”

Tim’s grin dropped.  “Yeah.  Some of the kids have been talking about the new Wayne Kid enrolling.  They’re not exactly saying the nicest stuff.”

Bruce sighed.  “As is to be expected.  Though admittedly…” Bruce smirked, “Damian might be well-protected from the verbal assaults.  You’ve probably picked up on this yourself.”

“Yeah, kid acts older than Alfred most of the time.”

“True, but that’s not really my point.  Alfred would know if he’d being derided.”

The teen rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I get it.  Is that everything, Bruce?”

“I believe so.  How are your days shaping up?”

“Fine.”  One of the teen’s brows raised.  “Bruce, are you trying to get at something else or are you just messing with me?”

“Tim, I’m not trying to trick you into anything.  I’m well aware of our frequent discussions.  However, as you know, I’m a bit old-school.  If I can talk to someone face-to-face, I prefer that.  Even to Skyping.”

Tim gave a smirk.  “Oh, c’mon, Bruce, get with the twenty-first century!  Skype  _is_  face-to-face!”

The billionaire shot back a deadpan look.  “You  _know_  what I  _mean_.  Physical, mano-a-mano, is, in my experience, the best form of communication.  Everything else is just… well, not as pure.”

“What, I can’t tease now?” Tim scoffed.  “Dick’s finally calling monopoly on that?”  He shook his head, grinning.  “Anyway, I’d better get going so I can grab my stuff before home room.”

“Okay.  See you later, I suppose.”

“See ya!  Tell Alfred I said hi!”  The teen took off, and Bruce sat for a minute, hoping the day would be stress free for all his boys.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Damian's first day of school. This can only go bad.
> 
> Warning - accusations of child abuse/rape, people generally not believing Bruce is on the up-and-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is caught up to my postings on FFNET. Yay. Next chapter is TBD, between picking up a second job and having a few different health issues (new ones, yay! -.-'), updating's gone onto the back burner. I've got another ten or so chapters' worth of dialogue already worked out, I just need to find the time to sit down and add narration. Hopefully, it won't take too much longer to get the next chapter out.

 

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

**_Circumstances are beyond human control, but our conduct is in our own power._ **

Danny went straight for the office, trying to ignore Damian as he ran up and demanded, “Wait for me!  Father is busy parking the car, and we are to wait for him to catch up with us.”

“So?” Danny bit back, rolling his eyes.  He shoved open the office door.

“Father wanted to know our schedules!”

“So we’ll tell him when we get back.”  Danny barely kept from saying ‘home’, biting down the word.  No place could be home, not any more.

Damian scowled at him, obviously not noticing the trip up and latching onto Danny’s arms, digging his heels into the floor.  “No!  He. Said. To.  _Wait!_ ”

Dr. Meridian looked up at them from a desk, barely covering up a grin.  “I don’t think your father would mind if you chose without him.”

The boy blinked, slightly surprised, turning to face her and stammering, “B—But he said to—”

Danny rolled his eyes, tugging his arm free of Damian’s loosened (yet surprisingly strong) grasp.  “We’re s’posed to fill out our schedules.”

Meridian nodded at him before looking back to Damian.  “Did he actually  _say_  to wait, or did he tell you to go on ahead?”

“Well… he… said to go ahead,” Damian admitted quietly.

She smiled at them, asking, “Go on ahead isn’t exactly the same as wait for me, now, is it?”  She held a hand out to Damian, introducing herself as Danny had already met her yesterday.

As the two exchanged pleasantries, Danny rolled his eyes, thinking to himself that of  _course_  Damian was only polite to pretty women.  Little manipulative jerk.

Dr. Meridian finally gestured towards a door, saying, “Go right in, gentlemen.  They’re ready for you.”

Danny brushed past them as Damian thanked the woman, and an office worker grinned at them as they came in.  “Ah, our new students… Daniel and Damian, correct?”

Damian nodded, but Danny just huffed and took a seat, noticing a second office person waiting by one of the tables.  There were papers strewn out across both tables in the room, and a quick glance showed that they listed all the courses available at the school and what period each course took place.  Damian sat at the other table as the first man explained what they were going to do.

“Each of you have been paired with an advisor,” he gestured to himself and the other man, “who will assist in picking out your courses for this year.  Admittedly, we’re already a bit into the year, so you  _will_  have some catching up to do.  The paperwork here has your possible choices for your schedules, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

Danny lazily checked off some classes, glancing between the list and his currently blank schedule to see what would go where.

Bruce walked in then, asking, “Getting settled?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian answered while Danny simply ignored them and his advisor, still working on his schedule.

“…Any questions so far?”

“No,” Danny grumbled, still not even looking up.

Damian scowled at the list.  “I… do not recognize several of these.”

Bruce sat across from his son and his advisor.  “Which ones?”

The boy gave a side look at the advisor as he answered.  “My… homeschool teacher taught only a few courses, and she never named them, so… almost all of them.  What would a seventh grader take from this list?”

The advisor looked incredibly confused, glancing at Bruce, who simply stated, “Just take whichever courses you want, son.  They have a list with the appropriate times, so you should be set no matter which you choose, provided you don’t pick more than one with any particular time-slot.”

“Yes, of course,” the advisor said.  “I can explain any classes you wish, if that would help.”

Damian briefly looked over at Danny, who seemed to be just about done, before looking back to his list.  “I would like to take a math, science, and psychology course.  Which of these would I select?”

The advisor studied the list briefly.  “Well, let’s see… for arithmetic, you can choose pre-algebra, algebra, or geometry.  For science, there’s physical, earth, or biological.  And for psychology… well, our students usually don’t begin that track until they enter senior high.”

“Understood. Then I shall take algebra.  What is the difference between physical and biological science?”

“Biological science covers living things, mammals, birds, and the like.  Physical science covers… well, basically everything else.  This particular course is fairly broad, and covers the bare-bones basics of physics, astronomy, chemistry, etc.”

Damian’s lips pursed.  “I think I will take physical science, then.  What other classes would I be able to take?”

The advisor marked down his two current choices, then glanced through the list again.  “Well, you can take one each of a social science, literature, english, computers, and physical education.”

The boy nodded.  “Then I shall take world history.  Are there any specific differences between the available courses for the rest?”

Danny was rolling his eyes at all the questioning.  It sounded like the kid had never had a single lesson in his life.  What the hell had his ‘homeschool’ teacher taught him?!

The advisor seemed just as confused, but did his best to explain.  “English and phys ed are pretty much grade-specific.  Literature includes studying different regions of the world, and their individual contributions.  Computers is usually specific, but it’s more… fluid.  You’re able to, for all intents and purposes, teach yourself.”

Damian nodded to himself.  “I shall take English and physical education, along with an advanced computers course and British literature.”

The advisor marked that down as well.  “Alright, that’s you done.”

Bruce looked over at the other table.  “Daniel?”

The teen handed over his schedule.  “AP Astronomy, AP Physics, Pre-Calc, Metalworks, Auto Shop, AP Psychology, and AP Computer Programming.”

The advisors blinked, obviously having thought from his general laid-back attitude that he would choose easy courses.  “…Okay, then.  We look forward to seeing both of you progress through our humble school.”

Wow, that didn’t sound lame and rehearsed  _at all_.

Danny immediately stood and angled for the door, Damian scowling at him and barking, “We were not dismissed!”

“Who cares?” Danny shot back and stormed out, heading for his first class.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny exited his next-to-last class for the day, starting a countdown in his head.  Sure enough, before he even hit two, he heard a yell from down the hall.

“Danny!  There you are!”  Damian rushed over.

The halfa scowled.  “Y’know you don’t have to hunt me down between every class, right?”

Damian fought down a blush.  “O—Of course I know that!”

“Then  _leave_.”  Danny turned to walk away, but a sudden grip on his sleeve stopped him.

“No!  I am making sure you do not try to skip classes!” Damian huffed.

Danny shook his arm free.  “Who frickin’  _cares_  if I cut class?”

“Father will!”

One of the kids walking by chuckled, and Danny glared over at him, snarling, “You got some kinda problem?”

The guy shrugged.  “No problem.  Just think it’s interesting how attached the lapdog is to his owner….”

Damian’s brow furrowed.  “‘Lapdog’…?”

Danny, however, had an idea of where this jerk was going with this and scowled more.  “Shut up if ya know what’s good for you.”

The jerk held up his hands.  “Oooh,  _so_  scared!  I don’t know much about you, bub, but I  _run_  this place.  Wayned might be a legend to the older people, but he’s, what… fifty?  He’s had…  _house guests_  for years, and only  _now_  decides to enroll a pair in education?”

Danny had a feeling that was an exaggeration if not an outright lie, but Damian was turning to him, a confused look on his face as he asked, “What is he—?”

Danny turned Damian back around, pushing him away.  “Go to class.”

The jerk laughed.  “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna miss  _history_  class!”  His posse chuckled.

Danny shoved Damian harder.  “Go.”

The boy huffed but left, and Danny turned back to the bully.  “Hope you don’t have a problem with eating through a straw for a few months.”

The bully’s brow raised.  “Sure, no problem at  _all_.”

Danny scowled.  “You should’ve left us alone.  I don’t exactly like being here to begin with.”

The jerk shrugged.  “Whether or not you  _like_  this isn’t my concern.  The part about your being on  _my_  turf  _is_.”  He gave Danny a once-over.  “You look kinda tough, I  _guess_.  Why are you here if you’re  _so_  against it?”

Danny huffed, crossing his arms.  “Let’s just say my social worker can be scary when she wants to,” he grumbled.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” the jerk laughed.  “Not sayin’ I don’t understand, but… in my experience, if someone wants or doesn’t want something, they do what they will.  If you  _really_  didn’t wanna be here, you  _wouldn’t be_.  To hell with the consequences.  You don’t exactly look like the type who’d die after a few small hours alone.”

The halfa rolled his eyes.  “That’s ‘cause I’m not.  And this is my first time in, what, two years that I’ve been to school, so she’s had some time to build up steam on the issue.”

The guy shrugged.  “Must be  _some_  steam to break a rock like you… or is it something else?  She find a chink in that armor most people don’t know about?”

Danny glared.  “You tryin’ to get at something?”

“I think I’m tryin’ to help you, buddy.  I may not know much about books, but… I know about people.  You seem the kind that don’t let  _no one_  in ‘less you really wanna.  So, if ‘the truth will set you free’ is anything to be believed,” he chuckled, “then there’s got to be  _some_  reason other than this mystery chick ‘gaining steam’.  Bash a rock with wind for years, and you  _might_  weaken parts, but it’s still a rock.  Unless you find a weakness….”

The group around them chuckled, obviously all on the jerk’s side.  Not that Danny cared.

The teen crossed his arms.  “Alright, you’re so smart, what’s my weakness?”

The jerk studied him for a moment, then chuckled again.  “Nah, it wouldn’t be something so obvious.  You’d either need to be some  _savant_ , or someone with stamina, who could attack from all sides until something worked.  I know the ‘fairer sex’ can be… effective, but even  _they_  can’t always prevail… unless they use their less… public resources.”

Danny laughed at that.  “What, you think she said she’d sleep with me if I went or somethin’?  Wow, here I thought you said you knew people!”

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t that,” the guy admitted with a shrug.  “Course, that’s not the  _only_  wiles any woman possesses.”  He smirked.  “Unless it’s not  _her_  who’s been doing the wiling!”

One of Danny’s eyebrows raised at that.  “I’m certainly not ‘wiling’ her.”

“Nah, you’re obviously not too weak against that… unless the action comes from a  _different_  angle.”

Danny stiffened some, practically snarling.  “ _Excuse_  me?”

The jerk didn’t seem to notice.  “You heard me.  There’s obviously  _something_  still raw inside that all-but-impenetrable fortress you’ve apparently built.  If it’s not due to this mystery woman, then… it must be some guy!”

Danny rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Wow, yeah, you got it.  However did you guess?”

“Like I said, I know people.”  Wow, this idiot just didn’t get it.  “Strong defenses don’t just get built.  They result from  _serious_  issues.  If it’s not a woman, then maybe it’s some dude.  Maybe some from back home?”

“No, it wasn’t.  It wasn’t  _anyone_ , you moron.”

“ _Sure_ , and I suppose Wayne’s not…  _entertaining_  his guests, either!”

The people around them burst into laughter again.

Danny bristled.  “You got something against Mr. Wayne?”

“Like I  _said_ , he’s a legend with the adults, but  _I’m_  not so sure.  He may be a ‘god’ when it comes to helping to keep certain things working, but… that doesn’t mean he’s  _completely_  pure.”

The halfa shook his head, done with this douche.  “Forget it.  There’s obviously no arguing with you if you’ve already  _decided_  he’s a bad guy.”  He turned, about to leave, but found his way blocked by the jerk’s posse.

“I didn’t say he was necessarily  _bad_ ,” the bully admitted, “just that he seems to have some… unconventional hobbies.”

Danny rolled his eyes, turning back to face the guy.  “So he’s taken some kids in.  So what?  There’s a lot of foster families out there that act as half-way homes.  What makes  _him_  so suspicious?”

“Are you  _really_  that  _dense?!_   Rich, friendly  _single_  man takes in only  _boys_ , and only  _one_  every few years?”  He huffed a laugh.  “I s’pose money really  _can_  buy silence….”

The halfa crossed his arms.  “Alright, so how do you explain me and Damian?”

“Easy.  One of you is his student, the other… the curriculum.”

Danny’s nose wrinkled.  “You think he’s  _teaching_.”

“Sure.  Teaching how he likes to… enjoy his house guests’… company.”

“Exactly how many brain cells have you lost over the years?” Danny snapped.  “You think he’s actually doing that with his own  _son?_ ”

“How do I  _know_  the kid’s his son, hm?”  Okay, that was actually a decent question.  “Sure, that’s what people  _say_ , but it’s a lot easier to believe something that’s more conventional.  If someone is a good samaritan, people never want to know the guy’s dirty laundry.  Far as I’m concerned, he could just as well be another transient he found due to his ‘humanitarian spirit’.”  He shrugged.  “Besides, even  _if_  he  _is_  Wayne’s kid, with his naivety, he  _certainly_  wouldn’t make a good replacement.  You, however… could fit in  _just_  right.  Course, he probably had to mold you first….”  The douche smirked at him.

Danny scowled.  “So by your logic, he ‘molded’ me, then got Damian as… what, practice?”

“Yep.”

The halfa rolled his eyes.  “Look, obviously you’re not exactly mentally with it, so let me put this in words you’ll understand.   _Wayne. Doesn’t. Touch. Us_.  At least, not in the way you seem to think he does.”

The douche laughed.  “Denial!”  He looked around at his posse like some kind of hype man.  “I’ve heard of Stockholm Syndrome, but… damn!”

Danny scowled even more.  “I’m not in denial, moron, I’m stating the truth!”

“Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night… provided you  _do_  sleep….”

As the group laughed again, Danny sneered.  “Look, jackass, there’s nothing going on, okay?”

“Sure, sure.  You don’t wanna talk, fine.”  He laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder, probably trying to be comforting.

Danny’s eye twitched.  “Leggo.”

The douche smirked.  “What’s wrong?  You don’t like a  _stranger_  touching you, but it’s fine if Wayne does it?”

That’s it.

Danny grabbed the jerk’s wrist and turned, flipping the guy over his head and slamming him onto his stomach.  The halfa dropped to one knee, which just so happened to be dug into the dude’s spine, as he twisted the jerk’s arm up behind his back, growling, “ _No_ , I don’t like it when  _anyone_  touches me.”

And of course, that’s when Damian ran back, an older brunet in tow.  “See?” the kid huffed.  “I  _told_  you he was getting himself into trouble!”

The newcomer took one look at the scene, the bully barely able to breathe from being mashed into the floor, and sighed, glancing at Danny.  “Let him up, man.  Can’t have a kid suffocate on your first day here.”

“No,” Danny snarled back.

Damian crossed his arms.  “I told Father he would be difficult.”

The newcomer rolled his eyes.  “Seriously, dude, he gets the picture, he’ll stop messing with you.”

“Messing with  _him?_ ” Damian gaped.

“Won’t you?” the newcomer demanded of the bully.

The jerk managed to turn his head just enough to huff out, “Sure… just… can I… breathe now?”

Danny’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but he let the douche up, shoving him once he was standing.  “Now,  _leave. me. alone._ ”

The jerk’s hands came up in a surrendering motion.  “Sure thing, dude.”  And the guy took off, his posse trying but failing to keep up.

Danny turned to the newcomer.  “Now, who the hell are you?”

“Tim Drake.”  He held out a hand to shake.  “I stayed with Bruce for about a year while my parents were busy with work.”

Danny glared at the hand, then at Tim.  “Like I said to him, I’m not big on touching people.”

Tim withdrew his hand, shrugging.  “Fair enough.  Anyway, we should probably get to class.”

_“Mr. Fenton, please come to the principal’s office.  Mr. Fenton, to the principal’s office.”_

“I knew he would be trouble,” Damian huffed.

Tim sighed.  “I guess you’d better head down.  Do you know where—?”

But Danny was already on the move.

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Danny saw the jerk already in the office and rolled his eyes.  “Great.”

“What, wishing you’d  _finished_  the job?” the jerk shot back.

The halfa glared, taking a step closer.  “Just be glad Tim came when he did.”

“See?” the jerk said, turning to the principal.  “I  _told_  you, he’s  _dangerous!_ ”

“Yes, yes, I’ve already heard your side,” the principal soothed.  He glanced at Danny, motioning for him to sit.  “Now, Mr. Fenton, can you tell me what happened earlier?”

“He pissed me off, so I introduced his face to the floor.”

The principal’s lips pursed.  “Language, Mr. Fenton.”

“English.”

The principal frowned.  “Mr. Fenton, I need a more detailed description if I’m going to be able to fairly judge who was at fault here.”

The jerk was indignant.  “What more  _detail_  do you  _need?_   He practically  _fed_  me the floorboards!”

“Because  _you_  decided that Wayne was raping Damian and me!” Danny snarled back.

“So what?  You think flipping me onto my stomach and  _plowing_  me into the  _ground_  helps your argument  _at all?!_ ”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “I don’t  _care_  if it helps the argument, it proved a point that I can handle myself.  Even against someone bigger than me, like you and Wayne.”

“Boys,” the principal barked, trying to reign them in, “as fascinating as this is, I still need to know what,  _exactly_ , happened.”

The jerk sighed.  “Mr. Naz, you know there are a few… rumors about Mr. Wayne going around the school.  I said as much, and he  _attacked_  me!”

“He grabbed me, I told him to let go, he didn’t,” Danny stated.  “End of story.”

“Sure, I use words, you use… well,  _everything_  else!”

Danny shrugged.  “You didn’t let go, so I made you.”

The principal sighed.  “Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton, we don’t follow that… policy here.  You still physically assaulted a student, so we will need to figure out some sort of disciplinary action.”

The jerk gave a slight smile.  “That’s  _all_  I ask.  I’m not saying I was… completely innocent, but… still!”

“Ah, then you agree with me,” the principal said with a smirk.  “After all, verbal abuse is  _also_  against school policy.”

“Darn it….”

“So, Mr. Fenton, Mr. Hannigan, I’ll need to call both your parents—guardians to discuss what punishment would be best.  Once we’ve done that, I will call you each back  _individually_  to inform you of what’s been decided.”

The jerk—Hannigan—sighed.  “Fine.”

The principal nodded, then looked to Danny.  “Mr. Fenton?”

“What?”

“Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

The head of the school gave a slight uncertain look, but faced both.  “Alright, you two are dismissed.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

Bruce and Alfred had just finished a late lunch when the phone rang.  Alfred picked up, answering as normal, “Wayne residence.”

_“Hello, is Mr. Wayne there?”_

Alfred glanced at his charge.  “He is, ma’am.  May I inquire as to the reason of this call?”

_“Well… there was… a small incident at the academy today… with Daniel.”_

“…I see.”

Bruce picked up a second phone, Alfred staying on the line to hear more.  “Bruce Wayne here.”

_“Oh, good,”_  the woman sounded relieved.   _“Mr. Wayne, we have had an… incident today, and there is the matter of discipline for Mr. Fenton….”_

“I see.  What occurred, exactly?”

_“It seems that he was provoked by Mr. Hannigan and then proceeded to, well, assault him.”_

Bruce sighed.  Of course.  He’d heard of Hannigan from Tim.  “Joshua Hannigan provoked him?  How so?”

_“It appears he made some… derogatory comments about you, the young Mr. Wayne, and Mr. Fenton himself.  Mr. Hannigan is also facing his own punishment for his actions, but we felt it best to consult with you on Mr. Fenton’s punishment.”_

“I appreciate your involving in this.”

_“You’re welcome, sir.  But did you have any suggestions for us…?”_

Bruce took a moment to review what he knew and learned of Danny so far.  “Well, I must be frank.  Danny isn’t the type to blow a gasket easily, so Mr. Hannigan must have been… determined.  Knowing what I do of Hannigan, I sincerely doubt this is his first… catalyzing event.  As such, I feel it necessary that he receive the more… strict disciplinary course.  Though Danny may not be  _completely_  innocent, I think it would be… premature to deal with him too harshly.  In fact,” Bruce smiled at the thought that had come to mind, “I think one course of action would be a somewhat… unconventional approach.  Brentwood has a wrestling team, correct?”

_“Um, well, yes, but… Mr. Fenton’s grades would have to come up again in order for him to be allowed on any school teams.”_

“I understand.  I don’t foresee that to be a problem.  As you’re probably aware, he’s had some… issues with staying in any one place for too long.  In such an environment, I doubt too many people would be able to maintain a four-point-oh GPA.”

The woman on the phone was obviously flustered at this point.   _“Yes, I suppose, but… um, Mr. Hannigan is currently on the wrestling team, captain, I believe, and we feel it is in everyone’s best interests to… keep the two from interacting as much as possible.”_

“Of course.”  Bruce frowned to himself.  “However, I don’t see that as being too likely.  One course of action would be to try and keep them apart, ready to do damage control when that doesn’t occur.  Or, one could try to pit them against each other—in the ring, for example—and let them… work out their differences in a more… controlled environment.  Wrestling, fencing, karate, et cetera.  A philosophy of mine is that, when faced with a situation such as this, one could try and contain a problem, or… redirect the energy to a more amicable application.”

_“I… see.  Well, I will bring up your suggestion with our principal.  Thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne.”_

“Of course.  Feel free to call again, should anything else come up.”

_“We will.”_   A click sounded as she hung up.

Alfred and Bruce put their phones down simultaneously, Bruce thoughtful and Alfred obviously concerned.  “Well, that was… enlightening….”

“Indeed,” Bruce agreed.  “I think Daniel handled himself quite well.”

Alfred smiled back.  “I have little doubt of that, sir.  He seems very in tune to his own limitations.”

Bruce glanced at the clock, seeing it was just about time to leave.  “Well, I suppose I’ll go retrieve them.”

“Very good, sir.  Shall I have a snack prepared?”

“I don’t think so,” Bruce replied.  “I’m not sure, but I surmise Danny will want to spend time alone, and Damian is probably beat.”

“Of course, sir.”

**73|_|5’ |)!(3**

 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, finally transferring my ffnet stuff over to here. I'm really terrible about updating, just as a warning, especially because I've had a lot of health issues over the past couple years.
> 
> Anyway, this story is something I've been working on for a few years now, and I sincerely plan to finish it, it just might take me a while. I've got nine chapters going up right now, with the original notes at the start of each chapter, and uh, yeah, I hope you like it.


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